Traps and Specters (20 page)

He took a step. Then another. He had to negotiate his movements with the slippery slope, his weight balanced back on his heels. The beam of his flashlight sliced through the fog, revealing very little. He noticed something about the walls. They were covered with narrow trenches that ran in all directions. He slid a finger through one trench; it was more than two inches across and easily as deep. He realized the tunnel had been dug out by hand—powerful hands with clawed fingertips.

“Sasquatches,” he muttered.

He noticed something moving a few feet ahead and yanked his light in that direction. Something was crawling on the wall. A giant centipede. Easily the length of Tank's forearm, it had a dark body, yellow legs, and two pincerlike appendages curling out past its head. Its hard, segmented body curved like a snake, its dozens of legs pricking the moist dirt.

Tank turned to watch the centipede move past. He backed into a new spot and felt something soft and threadlike close on the skin of his bald head. He ducked low and aimed the light high. Cobwebs covered the ceiling, countless spiders scurrying across the silvery strands, their thin legs carrying plump bodies.

He swept his flashlight up and down the walls and noticed other insects: large ants and shiny beetles. They were undoubtedly coming from somewhere below—somewhere inside the Secret Zoo.

The big man took a nervous step and felt something crunch and pop beneath him. He swung his flashlight down at his boot and saw six spindly legs twitching in the gooey guts of an insect beneath it.

Realizing he should radio for backup, he decided to head back to the Clarksville Zoo. But with his first step, his feet slipped out from under him and he dropped to his back in the wet dirt. On the steep slope, he began to slide. Then, with a scream, he plummeted into the dark, foggy reaches of the hollow earth.

CHAPTER 33

E
lla peered through the fog as she ran up the street. Bright auras surrounded all points of light: flickering candlewicks, green glow sticks, the beams of flashlights. Porch bulbs looked like starbursts. She saw a few trick-or-treaters racing across lawns, their overstuffed bags swinging at their knees. Several houses down, she spotted the roof of the Parkhills' house.

Richie's voice suddenly rose in her head. “Guys, I'm close.” Though he was surely whispering, his bone mic transmitted his voice loud and clear.

“How close?” Sam asked.

“Twenty feet, maybe.”

“Can he see you?”

“No.”

Ella cut into the yard next to the Parkhills' property. She ran as fast as she could. “Is he wearing boots, Richie? Black boots?”

Silence hit the airwaves, then: “Yeah.”

Sam said, “Richie, don't get too close. This could be him.”

“Wait a minute,” Richie said. “He just stopped.”

“Richie—does he see you?”

“He sees … something.”

Silence followed. Ella reached the Parkhills' backyard and tore across it. Her heart was slamming in her chest, not from fatigue, but fear.

Richie said, “He just … he just turned around. Oh my … he's looking right at me!”

“Run!” Sam instructed. “Go! Get out of there!”

Richie screamed, and it was a barbaric sound, something produced from raw fear. His panic-filled voice filled the airwaves:
“Something's happening! My … my arms!”

“Richie!” Ella called out.

A loud
thump!
erupted in Ella's earpiece, and she winced in pain. It was followed by silence.

“Richie!”
Sam said, and Ella had never heard such urgency in his voice.
“Richie, come in!”

Nothing. Richie was quiet.

“He dropped the bone mic!” a new voice said. Tameron. “His headpiece—it fell out!”

Ella ran alongside the Parkhills' house and charged into their front yard. As she did, Old Cove, the road Richie was on, began to rise out of the fog. She saw little else than occasional spots of light. But as she continued, a figure began to appear in the street. Then another. It was Richie, and a man whom Ella immediately identified as DeGraff. The Shadowist was off to one side of her friend, staggering about, his limbs flailing as he seemed to be struggling against something that Ella couldn't see. Richie was backpedaling away from DeGraff, screaming.

Ella gasped as she realized what was wrong with her friend. Parts of him … parts of him were
missing
.

CHAPTER 34

T
errified, Richie had no clue what was happening. The man in the trench coat, DeGraff, had turned around—his face concealed between his collar and his hat brim—and spotted him. Then he'd charged, his gloved hands reaching out. But as he closed in on Richie, DeGraff's body was jolted to one side, and Richie simultaneously felt something strike his arms and chest. He looked down to see pieces of himself
gone
.

Now, Richie glanced over at his left arm. Though there was no blood or pain, he could see clear through to the ground. Gone were parts of his elbow, forearm, and all of his wrist. Had DeGraff spilled his wicked magic onto Richie's body?

His gaze jumped up to DeGraff. The man was off to one side of the road, staggering about and throwing wild punches into the air. But nothing was near him.

Richie groped at the missing piece of his wrist and touched something that wasn't part of his body—something that began to squirm. As he jerked his hand away, a visible piece of his forearm disappeared. It was as if some poisonous thing was moving along his arm, devouring his flesh. He grabbed the squirming thing, and it almost immediately appeared in his hand. A chameleon. Its buggy eyes were locked on Richie, and colors were swirling along its body as it tried to adjust to the new hues in Richie's palm. Within seconds, Richie's hand vanished in its perfect camouflage.

Richie suddenly realized what was happening. A Specter had attacked the Shadowist, and chameleons had fallen off her and landed on Richie.

As the chameleon climbed from his palm to his arm, Richie looked up at DeGraff, who was still struggling with the Specter, his long trench coat flapping against his boots.

“It's him!” Richie said into his bone mic. When no one responded, he realized his earpiece had fallen out. He spotted it on the ground, scooped it up, and plugged it back into its proper place. “Can you guys hear me?”

“Richie?” someone said. It had sounded like Noah.

“Guys, I—”

Before Richie could say more, someone ran up from out of the fog. Wonder Woman—Ella!

“Your arm!” Ella said.

“Chameleons!” Richie explained. “From a Specter!”

Just then, one of DeGraff's punches connected with the Specter, knocking a few chameleons into the air and revealing part of the girl: blond hair spiked in a Mohawk; bright blue eyes buried in dark makeup; smooth, pale skin. Sara.

The blow knocked Sara to the street. The chameleons that had fallen from her body scurried back onto her. DeGraff turned and ran.

“He's getting away!” Ella reported into her microphone. “Down Old Cove, toward Jenkins Street!”

“Roger,” Sam said. “Everyone hear that? Converge on Jenkins Street and head him off before he can reach the zoo! Let's use this fog to
our
advantage!”

Ella turned to Richie. “You okay?”

Richie nodded.

“Sara?” Ella said, swinging her gaze around.

“Right here,” Sara said, her voice rising directly from Richie's left. “I'm good.”

“C'mon!” Ella said. “Let's go!”

Ella took off running. Richie followed, and as he brushed past Sara, the few chameleons on his body jumped back onto her.

Ella cast a glance over her shoulder. “Hurry, Richie! We can't lose him!”

Richie nodded and picked up speed. He'd never agreed with something more in his life.

CHAPTER 35