Traps and Specters (29 page)

M
egan dangled upside down in the air, her head near the knees of the sasquatch. Out of nowhere, something suddenly coiled around the monster's waist. What looked like the body of a huge snake, Megan realized, was a tail—Tameron's tail.

The tail seemed to shrink on itself as it cinched tighter and tighter. The sasquatch dropped Megan and grabbed and punched at the thing around its waist. Its monstrous body began to bulge in strange places. Within seconds, it spasmed, jerked, and abruptly went limp. The tail uncoiled and the beast slipped to the floor, where it lay dead, its spine undoubtedly broken. Then the tail slunk away from the scene and gathered in its normal position behind Tameron.

Tameron stepped forward and offered his hand to Megan, who seized it and was hauled to her feet. She forced herself to look away from the dead sasquatch, hoping she'd eventually forget the gruesome way its life had ended.

“Where are the others?” she asked.

Tameron didn't need to respond because the other Crossers charged up to them from the upper-el wing. As they approached, Sam said, “Everyone all right?”

The two of them nodded.

“Anyone seen Charlie?” Tameron asked.

Heads shook.

“C'mon,” Sam said. “He's here somewhere. Let's get him before he
isn't
.”

Sam led the Crossers along the glass wall of the media center and swung around a corner. Near the middle of the long hall was a room marked, “Maintenance and Electrical.” Its door was wide open.

“Charlie?” Hannah asked.

They shared a curious look, then Sam said, “One way to find out.”

Together, they crept into the maintenance room.

CHAPTER 60

T
he maintenance room was the size of a classroom and crowded with large appliances that hummed and sputtered and spat. Pipes stretched across the open space, connecting steel boxes, disappearing into the walls, and passing through valves with large red handles. One appliance had so many pipes jutting from it that Noah was reminded of a spider.

There was no sign of Charlie. But the back of the room had a large door—and it was open.

Sam turned to the scouts. “You know where that goes?”

The scouts shook their heads.

Sam considered the door for a moment, then said, “C'mon” as he moved toward it, his wings sweeping along the equipment. The other Crossers followed, Tameron's long tail stroking the floor like the sinuous body of a huge snake.

At the open door, Sam bent down to pick up something. He showed it to the others: a broken padlock. This door was normally kept locked. As the Crossers moved closer, they were met with a cool draft of air. They peered over one another's shoulders. A steep flight of dusty concrete steps led to a dirt floor. A cellar—an
old
one.

Richie said, “This has got to be from the old school—the one they demolished.”

The other scouts nodded in agreement.

Sam pointed down. In the ground several feet from the bottom step was a faint impression of a large foot with hooked claws. A sasquatch had been here. But the toe prints were facing the steps, as if the sasquatch had walked out from the cellar rather than in.

Sam headed down the stairs, waving his hand for the others to follow. As Noah stepped down, the underground air overwhelmed him. The decades-old smell of must and earth seemed to have a weight. Directly off the staircase was a long hall, roughly six feet across and a hundred feet long. Both of the uneven concrete walls had four carved-out sections for doors. The hall was dimly lit by a few bulbs that dangled overhead in simple fixtures. Dust had settled across everything: the lights, the floor, the pebbly concrete.

With soft and cautious footsteps, Sam led the slow charge into the hall. None of the Crossers dared to speak. A sasquatch had been here—how and why, no one knew. Were there others? And what about Charlie Red?

Sam peered through the doorway into the first room on his left. He looked around and then glanced backed at the Crossers. With a nod, he led everyone deeper down the hall. As Noah passed the room, he looked inside to see an old furnace covered in a layer of dirt. Pipes reached out from its large steel body and punched through the ceiling like the arms of a robotic octopus.

The dirt floor absorbed the sounds of their footfalls. Other than the drone of the appliances back in the maintenance room, the world had fallen eerily silent.

Sam peered into the doorway to his right. Empty. He led the group farther and stared into a new doorway. Again, nothing, and the group pressed on.

Roughly fifty feet away, a figure strolled out from a room near the end of the hall, and the Crossers froze. The figure casually turned and faced their group, the dim light revealing Charlie Red.

Sam said, “Red—it's over.”

Charlie chuckled. “I hardly think so.”

“Look around,” Solana said. “There's eight of us and one of you. And we got you against the wall.”

Charlie looked into the dark shadows behind him. “A dead end?”

“That's right,” Sam said.

“How can you be sure?”

The Crossers said nothing.

After a few seconds, Charlie continued, “Before you charge down and …
apprehend
me … can I offer some help with something?”

Sam looked puzzled. He said nothing.

“Would you like your radios working again?”

“You jammed them? How—?”

“You underestimate me,” Charlie said. He unclipped a walkie-talkie from his hip and raised it to his lips. “Please give the airwaves back to our friends. Over.”

Sam said, “Who are you talking to? Who else is in on—”

“Go ahead and try,” Charlie said.

“Huh?”

“Your headsets—try them now.”

Everyone reached to their ears and turned the headsets on. The pulsing sound was gone.

“Nice,” Charlie said. “Now … you're probably going to want to radio in a request.”

“A
what
?”

Charlie chuckled. He didn't speak for what seemed a long time. At last, he said, “How far are you willing to go to keep the secrets of your precious zoo safe?”

The Crossers stayed silent and waited for more. Noah felt his heart beating way too fast.

“You got quite a mess upstairs,” Charlie said. “It's going to be real tough to cover up. That kind of damage—what will you blame it on? Humans can't do that. But some animals … some animals
can
.”

Noah's stomach sank as he realized what Charlie was getting at. He wanted Sam to radio back to the Secret Society and have them release some animals into Clarksville Elementary. Gifteds, for certain—animals that could respond to commands from people and move easily into action. And animals large enough to cause destruction like this.

“No!” Noah said. He jumped forward and grabbed Sam's arm. “Don't!”

Charlie lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips and radioed his unknown contact a second time. “Can you also call our friends at the Clarksville Police? It seems there's been a terrible break-in at the school.”

Sam became very quiet and very still. Then he glanced over at Tameron, who reluctantly nodded at him, a scowl on his mostly masked face. Into his bone mic, Sam said, “Anyone out there?”

Noah squeezed Sam's arm.
“No!”

The Descender shrugged off Noah's hand. “It has to be done.”

Noah glanced down the hall and watched the smile spread on Charlie's face.

A voice filled the radio waves. “Jay here. You back online? I was starting to think—”

“Jay, I need you to send two of our biggest animals to the school. Gifteds.”

“What for?”

“We got a mess. And we need to clean it up.”

There was a pause from Jay as he seemed to realize what Sam was getting at. Sam wasn't just looking for assistance—he was looking for sacrifices.

“Who do you want?”

Sam stared at the ground and shook his head in what seemed to be regret and disgust. “Blizzard and Little Big.”

“Sam—no!”
This time it was Ella. “The police—
they'll kill them
!”

Noah understood this might be the best way to keep the Secret Zoo safe, but every piece of his heart told him it was the wrong call. Blizzard and Little Bighorn were his friends, not pawns in a chess match.

After a few seconds, Jay said, “Sam … you sure we can't—”

“Send them!” Sam said. “And do it quick! The cops are already on their way!”

Hearing this, Charlie Red smiled, his freckles seeming to squirm across his cheeks.

Ella stepped forward and jabbed her finger at Charlie. “You knew this was going to happen! You
wanted
the sasquatches to smash up the school!”

“Well … that much is obvious, I think. But aren't you curious about why we're standing here”—he gestured toward the walls—“in this filthy cellar?”

The Crossers said nothing. Noah saw that Sam's feathers had begun to tremble.

“I
brought
you here,” Charlie said. “For him.”

Noah suddenly realized something. Charlie was no longer wearing the outfit that looked like DeGraff's. He had on his usual security guard uniform.

“Guys …” Noah said, his tone heavy with concern. “Where is—?”

Before Noah could get his question out, he had his answer. A tall man emerged from the same door Charlie had come through. He wore a fedora hat and a flowing trench coat.

DeGraff. The Shadowist. For real, this time.

Sam took a step forward and raised his arms out to the height of his waist, shielding the other Crossers with a wall of silver feathers.

DeGraff found a spot beside Charlie. He stared up the hall, his face cloaked in the shadow of his wide-brimmed hat. His trench coat, draped around his feet, was as dark and featureless as the shadows around him. He wore black, pointed-toe boots and sleek leather gloves. His arms dangled at his sides, and his hands were closed into fists.

For a long time, no one said a word. The two groups simply faced off from opposite ends of the long hallway. The overhead bulbs cast cones of light along the walls and floor. Richie stared out with wide eyes through his oversized glasses. Ella hid behind Solana, peering around the Descender's quill-covered arm. Megan stood sideways, looking poised to jump in any direction. Noah felt something strike his heels, and he looked down to see Tameron's tail twining through the Crossers' feet.

“DeGraff,” Sam said at last. “That is your real name, isn't it?”

For a long time it seemed the man wouldn't answer. Then his hat bobbed up and down in a
yes
response.

“What do you want?” Sam said.

After a long pause, DeGraff spoke for the first time: “Everything.” His voice gurgled out, as if his throat was coated in phlegm. He sounded human, but barely alive. He slowly lifted his arm and pointed a gloved finger at Sam. “But I'll start with you.”