Chupacabra Page 8

  Kind of like the public image of the lovable Noah Blackwood, Marty thought as he looked overhead at the colorful chattering parrots. He couldn’t see a net or glass, and wondered what kept them from flying away.

  “Do you work here?” a woman’s voice asked from around the corner in front of him.

  “No!” a man’s voice answered gruffly. “Get your kids out of the way. I’m in a hurry.”

  Marty nearly fainted.

  “I was just asking,” the woman said indignantly. “There’s no reason to be so rude.”

  “Whatever.”

  Marty would have recognized that voice anywhere. Mr. Whatever was none other than Butch McCall, and he was coming Marty’s way.

  Marty tugged down the brim of his baseball cap and looked back down the path in panic. The next nearest bend was twenty yards away. He’d never make it before Butch rounded the corner, and Butch would recognize him whether he was coming or going. He dove over the short fence into the bushes and immediately clamped his hand over his mouth to muffle his scream. He had just discovered one of the ways Blackwood kept his animals in. Electrified wires! He scrambled away from the hot strand and hunkered down just as Butch came walking by.

  Butch’s black beard was back, as was some of the weight he had lost when they stranded him and Blackwood in the Congo. He looked to be in a hurry, but when he got parallel to Marty’s pitiful hiding place he paused, as if he sensed something wasn’t right. He looked up at the parrots in the trees. Marty held his breath. His heart was in his throat. He was afraid that Butch could hear it pounding. If Butch looked down, he’d see him. There was no place to go. Butch would grab him and try to finish what he’d started aboard the Coelacanth.

  Butch’s cell phone rang. He reached into his pocket, looked at the screen, and shook his head in disgust.

  “Yeah … I’m in Africa. I was just about to go out and run some errands…. These aren’t the kind of errands someone else can do…. I get it, but I babysat her all morning…. Okay, okay … I’ll be right down.”

  Marty knew there was only one person Butch would submit to like that. But was the baby he was complaining about Grace?

  Butch put the cell phone back in his pocket.

  Marty continued to hold his breath.

  Butch didn’t move.

  Apparently, right down did not mean right then. Butch looked back up at the parrots. Marty knew from experience that Butch was not a parrot lover. Parrots didn’t like him, either. He was missing a part of one earlobe, torn off by Wolfe’s African gray parrot, Congo. Butch reached up and touched the torn lobe with a frown. The woman and kids came around the corner. Butch glanced at them, glowered, then hurried away.

  Marty let his breath out and waited a moment before getting slowly to his feet, trying to avoid the wires and another jolt of electricity.

  The woman and the three children, twin boys maybe two years old and an older girl, watched him emerge from the bushes.

  “Do you work here?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Marty answered, brushing the dirt off his pants.

  “Then what were you doing in the bushes?”

  Marty climbed over the fence. “Uh …” He looked in the direction Butch had gone. “I was just coming up the path and some guy pushed me.”

  “With a black beard? Big?”

  “That’s the guy.”

  “We saw him, too!” the woman said.

  “I told you we should have gone and seen that giant squid,” the girl complained.

  “We need to find security,” the woman said. “This needs to be reported.”

  Marty wished he’d told a different lie. The last thing he needed was to attract attention to himself with Ark security. For all he knew, Butch could be in charge of security.

  “It’s no big deal. He was in a hurry. I just got in his way. It was my fault.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” the woman said. “And that’s the other thing about this place. The only staff members I’ve seen have been in the concession stands and gift shops. Where are the keepers and grounds people?”

  “They’re probably at Northwest Zoo and Aquarium looking at the giant squid,” the girl said.

  “Would you just let it go!” the woman snapped. “You’ve been whining about that stupid octopus all morning. This was the absolute perfect day to visit the Ark until we ran into that bully.”

  “It’s a squid, not an octopus,” the girl said quietly.

  One of the twins started crying. The other twin looked happy to see his brother’s tears.

  “Now see what you’ve done?”

  The girl hadn’t done anything as far as Marty could see. He was beginning to understand why Butch didn’t want to stop and chat with them, not that he would have, even if they’d been the nicest people on earth.

  The happy twin pointed up into one of the trees. “The tree is taking our picture.”

  Marty looked up. He was right. A video camera panned to the right. A second camera panned to the left. He pulled his baseball cap even farther down on his forehead.

  “My parents are in South America,” Marty said. “I’m going to catch up with them.”

  “What about the creep who knocked you down?”

  “I’ll tell my dad about it. He’s a cop. He’ll know what to do.”

  His dad was actually a journalist, but he would know what to do, and so would his photographer mother, if only they weren’t hopelessly lost somewhere along the real Amazon.

  Marty ran into the nearest restroom, found an open stall, and closed himself in. It was the only place he could think of where there wouldn’t be a camera. He launched the dragonspy. He wanted to find out where Butch was going. He wanted to find out if he had been talking about Grace.

  He flew the bot over the mom, the squid girl, and the twins. He flew over Asia, past tigers, gaurs, and elephants. Butch wasn’t there. He flew across South America, past tapirs, three-toed sloths, jaguars, ocelots, butterflies, vultures, and a rather aggressive hyacinth macaw who tried to bite the bot in two with its massive black beak. He ditched the bird by diving underground into the Amazon River exhibit, where a big crowd was gathered, watching a giant anaconda swallowing a rabbit. Among the faces staring through the glass was a pale bald head with nicks and scabs. Luther was scarfing down a hot dog with one hand and had a spare clutched in his other hand. Marty called him.

  “What’s up, doc?” Luther asked with a bun-filled mouth.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Watching an anaconda eat Bugs Bunny. You can’t believe how long it’s taking.”

  “A lot longer than it takes you to eat a hot dog.”

  Luther’s head whipped around, looking for him.

  “Look, Mommy, a dragonfly!” the little girl standing next to him said.

  Luther looked up and grinned, then started in on his spare hot dog.

  “We’re supposed to be looking for Grace, not watching snakes eat rabbits,” Marty said.

  “I get that. But she could come through here at any time.”

  “Not likely. Crawling animals make her skin crawl.”

  “I can’t blame her. It is kind of creepy.”

  “Butch McCall is creepy, too,” Marty said.

  Luther stopped chewing. “What do you mean?”

  “I just saw him.”

  “Where?”

  “Africa.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Out of Africa.”

  “How’d he look?”

  “Homicidal. His beard is back. I overheard him talking on his phone. He had to be talking to Blackwood. And he didn’t mention her by name, but I’m pretty sure they were talking about Grace.”

  “What about her?”

  Marty was about to tell him about the babysitting remark when on the screen of the Gizmo he saw something that turned his blood to ice.

  “Don’t turn around,” he said.

  Luther started to turn his head.

  “DO! NOT! TURN! AROUND!” />
  Luther froze.

  “Butch McCall is standing ten feet behind you.”

  • • •

  Grace ran up the stairs to her bedroom, wondering what had just happened.

  Or what is still happening.

  One of the strange design features of the mansion was that all of the windows were five feet off the ground. She supposed it was for privacy, but blinds would have been cheaper, and a lot more convenient. She pulled a chair over so she could see out. It looked like a normal late afternoon at a zoo. Families walking along the paths, or sitting at tables outside the concession stands, eating; people heading through the front gate to their cars, nobody coming in.

  The pitiful tour had ended on Level Three, with Noah insisting that there was nothing to see on the other levels. They took an elevator up to Level One, where Noah disappeared into an office for a minute, then came out saying he would walk her back to the mansion. They got up to the ground level, and by sheer coincidence they ran into Butch McCall. Noah asked Grace what time it was, even though he was wearing a perfectly fine watch on his wrist. She looked at her expensive watch with a fake expression of pleasure and told him it was 3:45.

  “I had no idea it had gotten so late,” Noah said. “I have an appointment.” He locked eyes with Butch. “Do you mind walking Grace back to the mansion?”

  “Sure,” Butch said flatly.

  Grace had seen this dance before. She was being handed off. When Noah had slipped into the office on Level One, he had called Butch to intercept her.

  “I know the way,” Grace said. “I’m sure Butch has other things to do.”

  “Nonsense,” Noah said. “Butch is here to —” His phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and read the message on the screen. A look of alarm crossed his face, but just as quickly went away. “We’re in luck. My appointment has been canceled. I’ll walk back with you.”

  Grace could not imagine anyone canceling an appointment with Noah Blackwood.

  Noah handed his phone to Butch. “Can you take care of this for me?”

  Butch read the message on the screen. “Oh yeah,” he said with a slight smile. “I can take care of that. Where do you want me to put … uh …” He glanced at Grace. “Where do you want me to put it?”

  “Someplace safe. Give me a call when you have it stored away. I’ll take care of the coverage.”

  On the way to the house, Grace had asked Noah what it was.

  “Nothing to concern you,” he had answered, sliding his key card through the front door lock. “I have some calls to make. I’ll see you for dinner.” Then he’d walked into the library and closed the door behind him.

  Grace continued to look out her bedroom window. She had an odd feeling. A feeling she hadn’t felt since she thought Marty was her twin. Back then, she could feel Marty’s presence. There were times when she felt they could communicate with something like telepathy.

  She was tempted to use the secret passage to try to sneak out and find out what was going on, but she couldn’t. Not with all of the surveillance cameras on the grounds. If she went out during the day, someone was sure to spot her and report back to Noah. Then he would know that she knew about the passages.

  Were they talking about Marty? she wondered, searching the Ark. Is he out there?

  “Is he still there?” Luther asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is he looking at me?”

  It was hard for Marty to tell in the dimly lit underground exhibit, but one thing was clear. Butch was not watching the snake swallowing the rabbit. He was staring in the general direction of Luther’s nicked head like a snake himself, getting ready to strike.

  “I think so,” Marty said.

  “Is he alone?”

  “There are so many people jammed in there, I can’t tell.”

  “Should I go left or right?” Luther asked.

  There were two ways in and out of the exhibit, and Luther and Butch were standing about dead center between them.

  “Go to your right,” Marty said. “I’ll try to distract him. When you get out, you need to avoid the surveillance cameras and find a place to hide out.”

  “Where you are hiding?”

  “In a toilet stall.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “You need to go!” Marty said. “Ready?”

  “I guess.”

  Luther put his phone into his pocket and moved his head and shoulders like he was loosening them up.

  Marty dove the dragonspy into Butch’s left ear. Butch turned and swatted at it. People yelled as Luther pushed his way through the crowd. Butch dove for him and missed, but the burly security guard waiting outside the exhibit didn’t. By the time Marty got the dragonspy past the angry zoo visitors and outside, Luther was being half dragged, half trotted down the path between Butch and the guard. He thought about trying another dive-bomb attack, but worried it wouldn’t work, and in the light Butch might figure out that the annoying bug was actually a high-tech bot.

  Luther was yelling his head off about civil liberties, lawsuits, mistaken identity, kidnapping, assault, and rich, powerful parents. Butch and the guard ignored him. The handful of zoo visitors weren’t paying much attention, either. It looked like security was escorting a crazy boy out of the zoo.

  Which is completely believable, Marty thought. Luther doesn’t look like Luther. Maybe Butch had been sent to the anaconda exhibit to check out a potential crazy. Maybe I made a mistake in having him run. Does Butch recognize him now that he has him in hand?

  They stopped in the middle of the path. Butch said something to the guard, which the dragonfly was too far away to pick up. Marty flew it in closer.

  “You’re sure?” the security guard said.

  “Yeah, I got this,” Butch said, holding on to Luther’s arm. “Shove off.”

  “Don’t!” Luther yelled. “He’s going to kill me!”

  “Not likely,” Butch said. “But I am going to call your mother and tell her you’re back at the Ark causing trouble again. She might kill you.” Butch gave the guard his best smile, which looked more like a grimace. “His mom’s a big donor. Dr. Blackwood asked me to come up and take care of this personally, and quietly … if you know what I mean.”

  “What he means is that he’s going to murder me!” Luther shouted.

  The security guard laughed and walked away.

  “You got a big mouth,” Butch said.

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  “Where’s your friend Marty?”

  “Who?”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say.” Butch reached into his pocket with his free hand. “Don’t worry, we’ll find him, Luther.”

  “My name isn’t Luther.”

  Butch plunged something into Luther’s arm.

  “Ouch!”

  “Good night, Luther Smyth.”

  “Huh? You’re craz …”

  As Marty watched the Gizmo’s screen, helpless, Luther’s eyes rolled up in his head. Butch caught him as he slumped to the ground, threw him over his shoulder like a sack of grain, and started walking down the path.

  Marty slammed open the stall door, ready to run to South America and save his friend, but he only took a couple of steps before stopping.

  By the time I get down there, Butch will be gone. If I start running through the Ark like a maniac, the cameras will pick me up and I’ll be captured, too. What good would that do?

  He looked again at the video stream. Butch had stopped in the middle of the path between South America and Antarctica, with Luther still slung over his shoulder like a corpse. Butch glanced up and down the path, then reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked like a credit card.

  What’s he doing?

  Marty zoomed the dragonspy camera in for a closer look.

  Butch slid the card into a slot concealed in the low metal rail running along the path. A second later, the earth opened up and an elevator rose silently out of the ground. Butch opened the door and
stepped inside with Luther. The door slid closed and the elevator disappeared back into the ground as if it had never been there.

  Marty cursed. He was so stunned to see the elevator appear out of nowhere that he didn’t even think about flying the dragonspy inside with them. He checked Luther’s tracking tag. It dropped sixty feet, then stopped. The tag started to move to the west quickly. Marty stared down at the Gizmo screen. Ten miles an hour … Fifteen miles an hour …

  Butch sure isn’t sprinting with Luther over his shoulder. No one’s that fast. They’re in some kind of vehicle. The blinking icon came to a stop a quarter mile away. Marty watched for a full five minutes. It didn’t move.

  • • •

  Dylan was in North America in front of the mountain lion exhibit when Marty called.

  “What’s happening?”

  “We have a problem,” Marty answered.

  “Don’t tell me Luther is hungry again.”

  “Luther’s been kidnapped.”

  Dylan wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly, but there weren’t too many words that sounded like kidnapped. In fact, there were none he could think of.

  “By who?” he asked.

  “Butch McCall.”

  “He recognized him?”

  “I guess.”

  Dylan found that hard to believe. The Luther that had gone into his bedroom looked nothing like the Luther that had come out.

  “How long ago?”

  “Five minutes.”

  Dylan had dropped off the two hot dogs not ten minutes earlier.

  “Where?”

  “South America.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Hiding in a restroom between Africa and South America.”

  “Butch saw you, too?”

  “No, but there are cameras everywhere. I watched Butch grab Luther with the dragonspy. Before he took him underground, he asked him where I was.”

  “Underground?”