Penguins of Madagascar Movie Novelization (5 page)

Moments later, Agent Classified tucked
all four penguins into a shipping box.

“Put on your jammies, penguins,” Short Fuse said.

“They are even cute when they're asleep,” Eva remarked, and Corporal nodded in agreement.

Short Fuse disagreed. “Not to me!”

“I want these butterballs out of my way, and out of my mission,” Classified said. “Ship them to one of our safe houses. The most remote place on the planet—Madagascar.”

The penguins didn't wake up until hours later.
They groaned groggily as they tried to figure out what happened.

“Ugh. Where the heck are we?” Skipper asked.

“Oxygen content is low,” Kowalski said. “I suggest we limit our breathing.”

Then the sound of a fart broke the silence.

“Aw, Private!” Skipper scolded.

Three beaks jammed through the cardboard of the shipping box. Private poked his beak out last.

“Sorry, I get gassy when I fly.”

“He does!” Skipper remembered.

“We must be on a plane!” guessed Kowalski.

Wham!
They burst out of the box and spilled out onto the floor.

“What did North Wind do to us?” Kowalski wondered.

“Oh! They gave us badges!” Private said. He pointed to a circular tag stuck to his skin.

“Not badges, tranquilizer darts!” Skipper said. He, Kowalski, and Rico plucked them out, but Private left his in. He liked it. It felt like a badge to him—and that made him feel important.

“Classified! That low-down dirty dog is trying to kick us off the mission!” Skipper fumed.

“He thinks we can't save the penguins because we're just . . . penguins,” Kowalski said.

“Well, penguins are our flesh and feathers,” said Skipper. “They're us! And if anyone is going to save us, it's us!”

“But, Skipper, we've gotta be five miles up,” Kowalski pointed out. “That pretty much limits our options.”

Skipper's eyes narrowed with determination. “I make my own options.”

He slammed the cargo door release button with his flipper.

Whoosh!
The door opened, sucking them out of the plane and into the air! A bunch of shipping packages flew out behind them.

“Aaaaaagh!”
they screamed as they fell.

“Brilliant move, Skipper,” Kowalski said, “but now we seem to be outside the plane.”

“I kinda got caught up in the moment,” Skipper admitted. “Okay, Kowalski, your turn to pick up the slack.”

“Uh. . . .” Kowalski was out of ideas.

“Why don't we catch that plane?” Private asked, pointing to a jumbo jet sailing right toward them.

“Aaaaaaagh!”
they screamed.

Slam!
They smacked into its windshield. The pilot simply turned on the windshield wipers and swatted them off.

Knocked free, they hurtled toward more planes passing below.

“We've got another target, straight ahead at twelve o'clock,” Kowalski said, using a military term to describe the location of target to where it would appear on a clock.

“Good, it's only eleven thirty,” said Skipper. “Follow me, boys, we're going in hot!”

As they fell at superspeed, Private actually started to burst into flames!

“No one likes a show-off, Private,” Skipper scolded.

“Aim for first class!” Kowalski yelled.

Smash!
They tore through the plane's roof.

Chaos erupted as the passengers noticed them.
Private quickly jumped into an ice bucket, putting out his flames.

“Kowalski, where does this aircraft go?” Skipper asked.

Kowalski picked up a croissant from the nearest tray table. “From the odd shape of this bagel, I'd say we're headed for Paris.”

“France? Forget it,” Skipper declared.

“Then I would suggest a midair transfer,” Kowalski said.

Skipper nodded. “Affirmative!”

Private walked by, pushing the plane's beverage cart.

“Peanuts, peanuts, peanuts!” he called out.

Skipper, Kowalski, and Rico hopped onto the cart and Private pushed it toward the cockpit. As they entered, the cart got caught on a chair, launching Skipper right onto the dashboard of the plane. He peered out of the cockpit window.

“There's our next ride, boys,” he said, pointing toward a plane.

He hopped back onto the cart, and they rolled
backward down the aisle. The penguins burst through the emergency exit and began to free fall once more.

“Deploy flaps!” Kowalski yelled.

The cart's side panels folded out like a makeshift pair of wings as they tried to steer toward the next plane.

“Stay on target!” cried Skipper.

“We're going to catch it! We're going to catch it!” Private shouted as they zoomed toward the jet.

Whoosh!
The flaps ripped off, and they lost their ability to steer. They flew right past the jet.

“Crikey!” exclaimed Private. “We're not going to catch it!”

Kowalski looked around. “Wait a minute. Where's Skipper?”

Rico pointed above them. They looked to see Skipper standing on one of the boxes that had ejected from the first plane. A trail of boxes followed behind him, caught in the air current.

“Time to get creative!” Skipper called down. “Start grabbing boxes, boys!”

Rico picked up Private and tossed him like a football at one of the boxes.

“Going long! Hoo-hoo!” Private cheered as he sailed through the air. He crashed into a box, sending packing peanuts flying out. When he popped back up, he had a parachute strapped to his back!

“Aw, Private, stop playing with those backpacks,” Skipper said. “Find something useful!”

Rico jumped into a box and searched through it. Then he began to murmur with excitement. He pointed to a tube jutting out of the box.

“Now we're talking,” said Skipper. “Let's get to work!”

Skipper and Kowalski jumped into the box with Rico. They started to pump his feet as he blew air into the tube. But the cargo in the box wasn't inflating fast enough.

Anxious, Kowalski looked at the ground, which was quickly approaching below them. “Four hundred meters . . . three hundred meters . . .”

“Speak American, Kowalski!” Skipper snapped.

“Sorry, sir,” Kowalski said. “Two hundred eighteen
yards . . . one hundred nine yards . . . ”

Rico gave one final, massive puff, and a fully inflated, jungle-themed bounce house burst from the box. It landed softly on the ground, and the four penguins happily bounced on top of it.

“Okay, then,” said Skipper. “It's clear what we need to do next.”

•  •  •

One hour later . . . they were still giddily bouncing up and down. Finally, they slid off.

“Impressive bouncing, boys,” Skipper said. “Now, then, back to civilization. If we're gonna take Dexter down, we need to know where he is going to strike. But first, who needs to take a whiz?”

The North Wind agents were
one step ahead of the penguins—but one step behind Dave. Under the cover of night, they investigated the penguin habitat at a zoo in Brazil. They flew overhead in a new VTOL, taking rapid photos using heat technology.

The photos projected up inside the plane.

Eva analyzed them. “Penguin footprints are still warm.”

“Blast it! He's gone!” Classified said.

“Blast it! He's gone! Shoot!” echoed Short Fuse.

A map of the zoos with missing penguins
appeared on the screen. The map of the zoo in Brazil lit up to join them.

Short Fuse was hopping mad. “Boy, if I ever needed some penguins kidnapped, I know who I'm calling! Look at this map. Dave took your penguins! Tokyo, London, Paris, Rio. Amsterdam? Amster-
BAM
!”

Corporal growled, frustrated. “So . . . many . . . penguins!”

He ripped out the computer keyboard and shoved it in his mouth, chewing on it.

“Corporal. CORPORAL!” Classified scolded, trying to pull the keyboard away from him. Eva and Short Fuse tried to calm him down by stroking his fur.

“There, there,” said Eva.

“Rub the angry out of the tummy,” Short Fuse said. “There it goes. Bye-bye, angry.”

“Corporal! Listen to me!” Classified said firmly. “Focus on the sound of my voice. My rich, soothing voice. Yes, we are going to save those helpless penguins because we are the North Wind, and no one . . .
no one
breaks the Wind!”

The words gave Corporal courage. He opened his mouth and let the keyboard drop to the floor.

“No one breaks the Wind,” he repeated.

“There's a good Corporal,” Classified said. “We rescued four penguins already, didn't we? Shipped them off all cozy and snug to a Madagascar safe hou—how come there's beeping?”

Boop! Boop!

Eva checked her screen. “Sir, about those penguins. They never made it to Madagascar.”

Classified couldn't believe it. “What? Where are they?”

•  •  •

On the other side of the world, a manhole cover opened on a busy city street. The four penguins emerged into a colorful scene. Merchants sold vegetables, fish, and exotic fabrics from market stalls. Signs written in Chinese characters announced goods and sales. People whizzed by on bicycles and scooters.

“Kowalski, what are our coordinates?” Skipper asked.

“From my calculations, we've arrived in Dublin, Ireland,” he replied.

But they were far from Ireland. They had actually arrived in Shanghai, the largest city in China.

“All right, soldiers. We gotta blend in,” Skipper said. “Everyone, quick—do an Irish jig!”

The penguins danced out of the manhole and popped up inside a street stall selling dolls.

“No time for sightseeing boys,” Skipper began. “We need to find intel on Dave's location, pronto!”

Then he spotted something. “Aha!”

He hopped over to a market stall selling baby squid on ice. He grabbed one and slapped it.

“All right, you! Where's Dave? Give us the goods!”

Kowalski coughed. “Sir, that's a baby squid.”

“Waaa!” wailed the baby squid.

“Sorry, laddie.” Skipper placed the baby squid back down and began to pace in front of his men.

“Ugh. Stranded on the Emerald Isle, without a single clue!” Skipper said. “Well, so much for the luck of the Irish.”

Kowalski pointed. “Skipper, look!”

Behind Skipper, a large TV screen on one of the buildings was blaring a story about the missing penguins. The newscaster was speaking in Mandarin, but they got the idea. A world map popped up, showing the locations of all the disappearances.

“It looks like Dave's been busy,” Kowalski said. “He's stolen penguins from Guadalajara, Mexico!”

“Madrid, Spain!” said Private.

“Parie!” said Skipper.

“Athens, Greece!” added Kowalski.

Rico got a thoughtful look on his face. He began to cough up the snow globes he had swallowed in Dave's hideout.

The penguins keep counting off the cities with missing penguins. Bangalore, Düsseldorf, Osaka, Rio de Janeiro, Nairobi, Amsterdam, Baton Rouge. . . .

Skipper, Kowalski, and Private looked back to see the snow globe collection piled next to Rico.

“Dave's snow globe collection . . .” Skipper realized.

“It's every zoo and aquarium he got kicked out of!” Kowalski finished.

Skipper looked at Rico. “Don't tell me where he
has
been. Tell me where he
will
have been next.”

Rico began to cough up something else, but it got caught in his throat.

“Wait, what is it, Rico?” Skipper asked.

Bwaack!
Rico choked.

“It's a book! It's a film! It's a play!” Skipper guessed.

Bwaack!
Rico just couldn't cough it up.

“First word . . . ,” Skipper said.

Bwaack!

“Two syllables,” Skipper said. “Sounds like
bwaak
? What starts with
bwaack
?”

Rico's belly rumbled as he coughed up one last globe. An emblem on the front read
SHANGHAI
.

“Shanghai,” Skipper said thoughtfully.

Kowalski pointed to the world map on the TV screen—there was no symbol on Shanghai.

“Dave hasn't been there yet, Skipper!” Kowalski figured out. “If we hurry, we can still stop him!”

“Nice work, Rico,” Skipper said. “Pack your bags, boys! It's time to blow this potato stand.”

The boys quickly packaged themselves in a box labeled
SHANGHAI
and tossed themselves onto a delivery truck. The truck took off—and then doubled back. A worker chucked the box out of the van.