Zoobreak (12 page)

“We need a plan,” Griffin concluded. “Something that gets the animals out of our hair and into a safe place until Dr. Alford comes back from baboon shopping.”

Savannah was depressed. “It sounds great, but it’s not so simple. These are living creatures. They need to be cared for, fed, and exercised. The predators have to be separated from the prey. They make noises and smells. We’ll never find a place like that.”

“Not without starting our own zoo,” Pitch agreed glumly.

And suddenly, The Man With The Plan was living up to his name.

“That’s it!” he exclaimed. “A second zoobreak! We broke them out of one zoo — we’ll break them into another! We’ll take them to the Long Island Zoo, and they’ll be waiting there when Dr. Alford gets back!”

Ben was appalled. “Are you crazy? That’s no little paddleboat with cages they bought at Wal-Mart! That’s a
real
zoo with
real
security!”

Savannah looked thoughtful and hopeful at the same time. “You know — I’m not saying it’s going to be easy, but Dr. Alford once took me there when it was shut down for the night. The buildings are locked electronically.” She looked meaningfully at Melissa. “It’s all run by computer from the main office.”

“I’ll do anything!” Melissa promised. “Just so I can have my bedroom back!”

“And my basement,” Logan put in.

“And my garage,” added Pitch.

Ben was bitter. “You don’t think I want my sauna back? And to wear a shirt that doesn’t have a ferret in it? But this is crazy! You push the wrong button, and you could send a herd of elephants stampeding down the Long Island Expressway!”

“We’ll be careful,” Savannah promised. “Don’t you see? This is the best idea in the world! We’re saved!”

“Not yet,” Pitch said grimly. “How are we going to get there? That zoo must be ten miles away. We can’t bike there carrying all the animals. And it’s not near the water, so a boat doesn’t help us.”

A slow smile replaced Griffin’s worried expression — the smile that said the new plan was beginning to take shape.

Mr. Nastase and Klaus were sharing a Formica table at Mr. Pizza Guy when the waitress set a basket down between them.

“What’s this?” the zookeeper asked, frowning.

“Cheezie Stix.”

“We didn’t order anything else,” Klaus told her.

She grinned. “Compliments of the young gentleman at the counter.”

Darren Vader swiveled on his stool and fired off a snappy salute.

“Man,” said Klaus under his breath, “is this kid for real?”

Darren left the counter and joined them at their table, helping himself to a Cheezie Stik as he sat down. “Darren Vader,” he introduced himself. “I have a business proposition. I set out an owl trap a couple of days ago. Interested to see if I caught anything?”

Klaus’s hand shot up from beneath the table, grabbed Darren’s elbow, and squeezed. “You’re some piece of work, trying to sell us back our own animals!”

“Hey, that hurts!”

Mr. Nastase leaned into the boy’s face. “Now I have a proposition for you. Why don’t we go down to the police station, and you tell them what other traps you’ve set?”

Darren gulped. “It’s just the owl! Honest!”

Mr. Nastase’s civilized veneer faded as his temper rose. “I wasn’t born yesterday, kid! I know you’re mixed up with Savannah Drysdale and Ferris Atwater, Jr., and the gang of delinquents who emptied my zoo!”

“I’m not!” Darren quavered.

Klaus squeezed harder.

“Okay, I was part of the team at first, but I didn’t go! I couldn’t get out that night! I really
did use an owl trap! I bought it on eBay! I’ll show you the receipt!”

“I’ve got a better idea,
Darren Vader
,” said the zookeeper. “You can show me the owl. And then you can tell me where to find the rest of my animals.”

“Aren’t you going to pay me anything?” Darren pleaded.

“Certainly,” Mr. Nastase agreed. “If you help me get my zoo back, I will reward you by not telling the police that you’re the one who robbed my place of business.”

Darren was horrified. “But I’m innocent!”

“Possibly. But who will believe it when they see you have my owl?”

“That’s not fair!” Darren wailed.

“Life isn’t fair,” the zookeeper commiserated. “But it can be bearable — if you cooperate.”

Poor Darren could not understand how things had gone so terribly wrong. He had come here with a valuable owl to sell, and Mr. Nastase had managed to turn everything against him. All he could do was nod miserably. He didn’t dare speak for fear he would dig himself an even deeper hole.

Mr. Nastase nibbled triumphantly on a Cheezie Stik. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to find out where your former associates are hiding my animals.” He smacked his lips. “These are really good.”

T
here was a knock at the door. “Ben?” came Mr. Slovak’s voice. “Can I come in?”

“Just a minute, Dad.” Ben stuffed Ferret Face into his closet along with his printout of tomorrow night’s plan. He opened the door to admit his father. “What’s up?”

“I have some news.” Mr. Slovak’s expression was solemn. “DuPont Academy just called. There’s a place opening up for you in ten days.”

Ben had known this was coming, but he hadn’t expected to be so devastated by the reality. He told himself he ought to be happy. He was going to be safe in New Jersey, where there were no zoobreaks, either into or out of captivity. He should have been relieved that at least the suspense was over — no more sword dangling above his head. Instead, all he thought about was a boarding school he didn’t want to go to, far away from everything he knew and cared about, far away from his best friend. Being shanghaied into his second zoobreak in a week now seemed like a minor inconvenience compared with that.

He took a deep breath. “Okay. So what do I have to do?”

“Nothing right away,” Mr. Slovak replied sympathetically. “I just wanted to let you know it was coming. And by the way, the school nurse called. She says your nap habits have changed, and she wants you to see Dr. Patterson.”

Ben sighed. “Sure, why not?” After tomorrow night, Ferret Face would be history, and
he would be back to normal … or, at least, normal for a kid with narcolepsy.

When his father left, Ben opened the closet door. “All right, Ferret Face. The coast is clear.” He stared. The ferret was chewing on the plan for Zoobreak II! He made a grab for the paper, but the agile creature darted underneath his hand and out into the bedroom.

“Give me that!” he hissed. He took a flying leap onto his bed, but the ferret scooted just out of his grasp. It scrambled across the pillow and jumped back down to the carpet. As it passed the open window, a strong breeze tore the page from its mouth and tossed it into the yard.

“Now look what you’ve done!” A live plan blowing around the neighborhood — Griffin would have a heart attack.

Ben took the stairs three at a time and burst through the back door. The paper was nowhere to be seen.

Oh, well, if I can’t find it, no one else can. It’s probably stuck twenty feet up a tree
.

Griffin didn’t have to know about this … or about DuPont Academy. The Man With The Plan had enough on his mind.

W
ednesday, April 15, dawned brilliant and sunny. Nowhere was brighter than the Cedarville Marina, where Mr. Vader’s boat, the
In-Vader
, was docked in slip 19.

Darren emerged from the cabin below, hauling a square wire-mesh cage. In it, blinking his huge yellow eyes in confusion and discomfort, was Hoo.

Klaus took the trap from him and peered at its occupant. “That’s him, all right. Good to see you, little buddy.”

Mr. Nastase barely glanced in the owl’s direction. “That’s only half of our bargain. Now, where are the rest of my animals?”

Darren shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The zookeeper’s eyes narrowed. “Do you have any idea what life is like inside a juvenile detention center?”

Darren gulped. “I don’t know where they are now, but I know where they’ll be tonight.” From his pocket he produced a much-rumpled paper and began to unfold it carefully. The heading read:

Klaus frowned. “Zoobreak? What is this — a joke?”

“This kid Griffin is a really big idiot,” Darren explained. “He writes up a plan like this every time he goes to the bathroom.”

“And you got the paper from him?” Mr. Nastase probed.

Darren shook his head. “From his sawed-off sidekick. I was spying on his house, trying to see if he had any of the animals. This blew out the window.”

The security man ran his finger along the bumpy contours of the sheet’s missing corner. “Bite marks,” he concluded. “Small ones.”

His boss scanned the page in anger.
“They’re taking
my
animals to someone else’s zoo! We’ll just see about that!”

The meerkat stood on the dresser once more, watching intently as Griffin plucked the gerbils, hamsters, and mice out from among the Lego pieces and zipped them into a small backpack.

He selected a toothpick from the box and peered into the plastic drawers to begin the distasteful task of cleanup. Then, with a sigh, he took the entire collection and dumped it into a large green garbage bag. He was getting too old for Lego anyway.

Hey, if the worst thing that happened out of all this was the loss of a little Lego, they would be getting off easy. Who would have thought that a few helpless animals would be harder to handle than a million-dollar baseball card? But you could plan for a card. With animals, the plan was always changing. From one rescue to forty. From a breakout to a secret hotel operation. And now Zoobreak II, the riskiest plan of all.

“Can we pull it off?” he asked aloud.

The meerkat didn’t know, either. But he was a good listener, this mongoose cousin.

He sat up on his hind legs and always seemed to be paying such rapt attention. And, Griffin reflected, there was no chance of him spilling the beans. That was pure gold.

“Cracker?” It was a rhetorical question. The meerkat never turned down a Ritz.

Griffin and his companion shared a tense pre-zoobreak snack. He hoped they served these at the Long Island Zoo. He should make an anonymous call about it to Dr. Alford when she got back from Africa.

Thinking ahead to a time after tonight was almost impossible. The next few hours would be the most difficult of their lives.

The grandfather clock in the dining room chimed midnight. Griffin peered out the window. A shadowy figure lurked near the rosebush: Pitch, with a backpack of her own and a wicker picnic basket. Operation Zoobreak II was on.

He hustled the meerkat into a canvas drawstring bag, shouldered his cargo, and crept silently down the stairs and out the front door. By that time, Melissa was there, too, with her wagon on which sat three wriggling laundry bags. Ben traveled light with the chuckwalla in a zipper pocket and Ferret Face inside his shirt. But Logan
required a duffel for his beaver, turtles, salamanders, and frogs. Last of all, carrying the heaviest burden, came Savannah with rabbits, white rats, duck, and loon in four pet carriers.

Griffin stared at her matted hair and dripping clothes. “Why are you all wet?”

“The loon wouldn’t leave!” Savannah spluttered. “I had to go into the water and get him!”

“Okay, Griffin,” said Pitch. “We’re all here, and so is the livestock. How do we get to the zoo?”

In answer, Griffin eased open the garage door. There stood the six prototypes of his father’s newest invention, all charged up and ready to go.

Logan was blown away. “What are they?”

Griffin jumped onto the riding platform of the first one. “Presenting the SmartPick Rollo-Bushel.” He wheeled out of the garage, executing quick turns in and around the team. “Titanium frame construction, pinpoint steering, animal-friendly bushel basket, and good for fifty miles on a single charge.”

Pitch was delighted. “This is awesome!” She hopped onto her unit and put it through its paces, spinning around experimentally.

“Your dad’s pretty weird, but man, he invents some wild stuff!”

“Tell that to Mrs. Vader,” said Griffin. “She doesn’t think the Rollo-Bushel is unique enough to deserve its own patent.”

Ben made a face. “Big talk, considering the only thing she’s ever given the world is Darren.” He touched the handlebar and immediately drove into the garage wall. “Ow!”

“Careful!” Griffin hissed. “If anything happens to one of these prototypes, my dad will ground me till I’m ninety. All right, load up the animals. And don’t forget to take a bike helmet.”

Anyone who happened to be looking out the window that night would have been treated to an amazing sight: a line of eleven-year-olds, standing ramrod-straight on moving platforms, rolling silently down the street.

Traffic was light, but every single passing car slowed down to stare. A teenager in a pickup truck lowered his window and called, “How much do you want for one of those?”

“They’re not for sale,” Griffin replied from his position in the lead.

“Do you think we look
cool
?” Melissa mused in amazement. “I’ve never been cool before.”

“Are you kidding?” Pitch laughed. “We belong on the cover of
Dorks Illustrated
!”

“But if you need to move a meerkat,” Griffin tossed back, “this is better than a Lamborghini.” In spite of the crushing gravity of the task ahead, he couldn’t help but feel pride in his father’s invention.

At the Rollo-Bushel’s top speed of twelve miles per hour, they floated south along the shoulder of County Road 47, past closed strip malls and darkened neighborhoods.

Griffin was terrified that a police officer would cruise by and wonder what six kids were doing out at this hour on such bizarre vehicles. But luck stayed with them, and the cops patrolled other roads. Even the animals were cooperative. Most of them took the darkness of night as a signal that they should be sleeping.