Traps and Specters (19 page)

“Who was that?” Sam asked, his tone crisp and quick with concern.

It was Ella who provided the answer. “I'll give you a hint. He tells bad jokes and knows more about atomic matter than your average scientist.”

Sam didn't need another clue. “Richie, you okay?”

CHAPTER 30

R
ichie lay in a ditch, his glasses askew and his bag of candy spilled out beside him. He realized the sky was barely visible through the fog.

Sam's voice rose in his ear again: “Richie? You all right, man?”

“I … I fell.” It was all Richie could think to say.

“How?”

Richie glanced toward the street, where a once-parked Radio Flyer wagon was now tipped on its side. “I tripped. On a wagon.”

“Get up,” Ella said curtly. “You didn't break anything.”

“And how could you possibly know that?”

“Because I've seen you
not
break something a million times.”

As Richie sat up, miniature candy bars and pixie sticks spilled down his chest. He stood and steadied himself. Then he freed his underwear from his rear end and continued down the street, his bag of candy now almost empty.

“Okay,” Richie said. He straightened his glasses and adjusted his checkered nerd pants, pulling them high above his skinny stomach. “I'm on the move again.”

“Roger,” said Sam. “How does your street look?”

He scanned the houses. He couldn't see too far in the fog. “Everything looks good, I guess.”

The airwaves fell silent. For the next fifteen minutes, the fog continued to thicken. It seemed to be slowly devouring the neighborhood, consuming houses and kids and cars. Porch lights struggled just to reach the street, and parents had begun to keep their children close. An intersection rose out of the fog and a street sign took shape. Richie had looped back around to Jenkins. He announced his position into his headset and headed down the road.

More time passed. Richie saw fewer kids trick-or-treating and porch lights were beginning to blink out. The other Crossers occasionally announced their positions—
“This is Noah. I'm headed onto Williams Road” … “Ella here. I just cut over to Phlox Drive”
—but mostly the airwaves stayed quiet.

As Richie paced down Jenkins Street, his eyes kept gravitating toward the Clarksville Zoo wall, which he could faintly see through the spaces between the houses. It looked eerie in the fog. Long and gray and winding, it had occasional cavities where large pieces of weathered concrete had crumbled away. Ivy clung to segments. Branches crept over its top like the hooked legs of giant spiders.

Realizing the streets were almost empty, Richie whispered, “Anyone know what time it is?”

“It's almost nine,” someone said. Richie thought it had been Megan.

Solana spoke up. “Halloween's about over, then. At least by Clarksville's clock.”

Richie veered onto another side street that continued straight for at least a hundred feet before curving back toward the Clarksville Zoo. As he came around the bend, he stopped so suddenly that his glasses jumped an inch down his nose. About thirty feet ahead of him, a man was headed in the same direction as Richie. He wore a hat with a wide, circular brim. And a trench coat—a long, flowing trench coat that stopped at his ankles.

Richie forced down a deep breath and said, “Guys … I have something here … a man … and he's dressed like DeGraff.”

The airwaves stayed silent for a few seconds, then Noah's voice filled Richie's head. “Where are you?”

It took a moment for Richie to realize someone had spoken to him. He reached into his memory, discovered the question, and tried to remember where he was. Jenkins Street? No. Walkers Boulevard? Not there, either.

“Richie!”

“A side street. Ummm …” He turned his head and peered at a street sign until the words came into focus. “Old Cove—I'm on Old Cove.”

“The man …” Sam said, “what
exactly
is he wearing?”

The man was beginning to sink into the fog, so Richie hurried forward a few steps. “A fedora hat. And a trench coat. I'm behind him—I can't see much.”

“How tall?” someone said.

Richie couldn't think enough to answer.

“Richie—how tall!”

He concentrated. “Tall. More than six feet.”

Silence claimed the airwaves. Finally, Sam said, “All right, everyone give me your positions.”

One by one, the Crossers announced the streets they were on. Ella and Noah were just a few blocks over from Richie; Sam told them to get over to Old Cove.

“Richie,” Sam said, “get closer to that guy, but don't let him spot you. Get a better look and let us know what you see—you got it?”

“Yeah,” Richie said. “Get close.”

Richie picked up his pace, the moist air curling around him as he moved in on the shadowy man.

CHAPTER 31

A
s Ella cut through the backyard of a white-bricked ranch, she trampled the remains of a vegetable garden and then hurdled the bottom half of a play structure slide. She cut between two houses, charged across their front lawns, and emerged on a new street, trying to build a mental image of her position in the neighborhood.

“Richie!” she said into her bone mic.

Richie's voice filled her head. “Yeah?”

“Where are you on Old Cove?”

“Huh?”

“The houses—what houses are you near?”

After a pause, Richie said, “Close to the Parkhills. And the house with the big boulder, the one painted blue.”

She knew exactly where that was, about ten houses down, to her left.

“I'm coming,” she said. Then she turned and took off running, her Wonder Woman cape waving behind her, her Lasso of Truth bouncing on her hip.

CHAPTER 32

T
ank swung his flashlight from spot to spot, revealing parts of the cave: the hard walls, the dirt floor, the passage leading to the Secret Zoo. As the fog headed for the outside air, it moved across his body like a living thing. It smelled of wet earth, and its weight filled his lungs. He occasionally waved his hands in front of him in a feeble attempt to sweep it away.

In his headset, he could hear the conversation between the scouts and Descenders. Tank thought to announce his position, then decided against it. Maybe it was safer to keep quiet for now.

The big man took a few more steps and then swept the beam of his flashlight up one wall, revealing an opening the size of a door. Tank had never seen it before. The passage was covered with a velvet curtain, moist air swirling and curling along its edges. Without a doubt, the fog was coming from here.

As he reached out and touched the gateway, magic surged up his arm. He eased the curtain to one side and peered around it. It was pitch-black. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, the velvet sliding across his shoulders and down his back, its magic delivering him into the Secret Zoo.

In his ear, the voices of the other Crossers immediately fell silent—radio waves couldn't span the magical divide between the two zoos. He raised the flashlight and lit the foggy air. He could faintly see that he'd stepped into another narrow cave, one that sloped down at a steep angle.