Zoobreak by Gordon Korman
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.
26
Wednesday, 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:
OPERATION ZOOBREAK II
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.
They’d been traveling for nearly an hour before the headlamp on Griffin’s prototype illuminated a sign:
LONG ISLAND ZOOLOGICAL GARDEN NEXT RIGHT
“This is it, you guys! Follow me!”
27
A zoo was such a daytime place that it seemed eerie and threatening in the gloom. The team wheeled through acres of empty parking lot, illuminated only by the faintest of lights. The ticket windows were shuttered, the front gate barred by a rolling section of fence.
Pitch hopped off her Rollo-Bushel and scaled the barrier with ease. “Piece of cake,” she called softly. “It’s just a latch.”
Griffin helped her slide the heavy fencing aside, and the six vehicles entered the zoo.
From here, Savannah took over the lead role in the operation. Not only was she the animal expert, but she had been here after hours. Dr. Alford had given her an insider’
“There are keepers on call, but they’re not on site,” she whispered. “The only people at the zoo right now are two night watchmen cruising around in golf carts. If we stay off the main paths, we should be able to avoid them.”
“Rollo-Bushels are designed to drive in orchards,” Griffin added. “We can take them on the grass.”
Melissa spoke up. “Where’s the computer that controls the cage locks?”
“In the administration building,” Savannah replied. “It’s just past the food court.”
The procession of Rollo-Bushels drove off the pavement into the cover of the trees. They skirted the compound, their vehicles bumping over stones and roots. The ride was rougher, but the suspension was rock steady. The bags with their live cargo shook but did not fall off.
Their course took them behind some of the zoo’s more famous exhibits. Griffin could make out the tall shape of a sleeping giraffe silhouetted against a moonlit sky. Farther along were two huge hulks, probably the rounded backs of elephants. But this was no sightseeing tour. He couldn’t let his mind wander now that their goal was so close at hand. He focused all his attention on keeping his scooter right behind Savannah’s and making sure the others were close behind him.
ADMINISTRATION read the sign in front of a low building constructed in the shape of an L. It lay flat to the ground, its front door protected by a simple padlock.
Griffin stopped his Rollo-Bushel, hopped off the platform, and approached the entrance. From the side pouch of his backpack, he produced the wire cutters he’d used to open the cages in the first zoobreak. He clamped the blades around the lock and squeezed. No progress. Pitch came to lend her strength to the task. The two of them groaned with effort. Still nothing.
Savannah was alarmed. “If we can’t get into the office, we’ll never be able to turn off the electronic locks!”
“You mean we came all this way for nothing?” asked Logan, aghast. “No way am I taking that beaver back to my basement!”
Griffin abandoned the wire cutters. “Any good plan includes backup.” He reached into the pouch once more and pulled out a small hacksaw. “This’ll take a few minutes. Stash the Rollo-Bushels in the bushes just in case the security guards come by.”
He went to work on the padlock, sawing vigorously. It was slow going, and soon he was bathed in sweat despite the cool night. The metal gave way, bit by bit, the shavings raining down on the stoop. Finally, the lock clattered to the pavement. They were in.
Griffin, Savannah, and Melissa entered, leaving the others to guard the animals. The inside of the building could have been the main office at school, with desks and cubicles and small meeting rooms down a hallway.
“Okay,” said Griffin, all business. “Which computer unlocks the cages?”
“They all will,” said Melissa. “The system has to be run on a secure intranet. Any networked station should do the job.”
“We’ll use the one in Dr. Alford’s office,” Savannah decided. “She definitely has the authority.” She led them down the corridor to the door marked CURATOR.
The door was ajar, the computer still on and humming. Melissa sat down and began to pound the keyboard.
“Do you think she can do it?” wondered Savannah, her eyes full of anxiety.
“I don’t know,” Griffin replied. “But on a computer, if Melissa can’t do it, it can’t be done.”
They stood in silence as the keyboard clattered and data flashed across the screen. The tension was so dense that it was almost visible in the room. The weight of this whole affair was especially heavy on Savannah, since the theft of her monkey had set it all in motion. And as for Griffin, he knew that no hacksaw could save the plan if they couldn’t access the cages. Worse, there was no going back — not to Savannah’s shed, Logan’s basement, Melissa’s closet, Pitch’s garage, Ben’s sauna, or Griffin’s Lego.
Melissa’s quiet voice startled both of them. “Okay,” she said, “which cage do you want to open first?”
The judge’s gavel came down like a pistol shot. “I sentence you to fifty years in juvenile detention!”
“No-o-o-o!” cried Darren, devastated. “I’m innocent!” He wheeled in the courtroom to face Mr. Nastase, who was laughing loudly in the front row, Klaus at his side. “You know I’m innocent!”
“You should have thought of that before sending us on a wild goose chase to the Long Island Zoo!” Mr. Nastase jeered.
“It’s Bing’s fault!” Darren babbled. “He and Slovak set me up! They dropped that fake plan out the window because they saw me spying on the house!”
“Bailiff!” thundered the judge. “Take him away.”
Darren tried to escape, but strong hands grabbed him, shaking him.
“Let me go!”
“Darren — Darren, wake up! You’re having a nightmare.”
Shocked, Darren opened his eyes. The arms that held him tightly were his mother’s. His father was by the light switch, looking worried.
His relief that the fifty-year sentence had been only a dream evaporated when his mother asked, “You were spying on what house?”
Uh-oh. “I don’t know. It was just a dream. I don’t even remember what it was about.”
“You were babbling about Griffin and Ben,” his mother informed him. “And you kept saying you were innocent. I know you, Darren Vader. You’re never innocent. What are you mixed up in this time?”
Darren was too sleepy and too rattled to think up a good lie. He blurted out the whole ugly truth.
His father was horrified. “Are you telling me that six kids are all the way out at that zoo at one-thirty in the morning, and you sent two thugs after them?”
It sounded bad, even to Darren. “I had no choice! They were going to call the cops on me because I had a hot owl!”
Mrs. Vader cast her husband a stricken look. “We have to call those other parents — and the police.”
28
Griffin and Ben parked their Rollo-Bushels in the shadows behind the Small Mammal House. Ben unloaded the pet carrier containing the rabbits and the laundry bag with the prairie dog. Griffin hefted the drawstring sack where his meerkat lay sleeping.
“Team One to Base,” he said into his walkie-talkie. “Melissa, we’re at Small Mammals. Pop the door.”
“Got it,” came Melissa’s voice. “Let’s hope this works.”
They stood, barely daring to breathe, and almost broke into wild celebration when they heard a loud click. Griffin reached for the handle and pulled the door wide.
“We’re in.”
Logan’s voice came over the speaker from Base. “Tell me when the beaver’s gone.”
“The beaver’s with Team Two at North American Wetlands,” Griffin said briskly. “Savannah and Pitch are dumping him with the duck and the loon.”
They found themselves in a long corridor with glassed-in habitats on both sides. Most of the animals were asleep, their displays dark. The main hall was in night mode, bathed in reddish light.
Ben radiated anxiety. “How do we get them into the habitats? If we break the glass, we’ll have the whole zoo on our necks!”
On the other side of the grounds, at North American Wetlands, Savannah overheard them on her own walkie-talkie.
“There’s a hallway in back that lets you get into the displays,” she advised. “Look for an entrance marked ‘Staff Only.’ ”
“Got it,” Griffin confirmed. “It’s locked. Melissa?”
“Hang on.” A moment later, there was a telltale click.
Ben pushed the door open, and they hustled their bags inside. This hallway was a thin passage that extended the full length of the building behind the row of habitats. They could not see into the displays, but each one had an access panel that was clearly marked. It identified the animals inside, their food and water requirements, and maintenance instructions.
Griffin went along, reading the signs. “Here — Eastern Cottontail Rabbit.” He opened the panel just a crack, and they pe
Ben was dismayed. “Our guys are white! We’ve got the wrong rabbits!”
“They’ll do,” Griffin decided. “Savannah said it doesn’t have to be a perfect match. They just have to avoid killing each other before the zoo people notice them in the morning.”
They took the three rabbits out of the carrier and placed them gently into the habitat. The new arrivals, their sleep disturbed, looked around with bleary eyes but soon settled down. If they were agitated by the move, it didn’t show.
Griffin felt a faint stirring of hope. The first animals had been unloaded. This could work. It would work….
A few displays down, they deposited the prairie dog into a dusty enclosure with tumble-weeds and two others of its species.
Switching to the other side of the hall, they located the meerkat exhibit. The heat was cranked up so high that it baked the moisture right out of their eyes as they placed the former tenant of Mrs. Bing’s greenhouse into its natural habitat.
“You know,” said Griffin in a subdued voice, “I’m going to miss that little guy. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I felt he was the only one who really understood me.”
“You’re right,” Ben told him. “It sounds crazy.”
That left Ferret Face. In the very last enclosure, they found a community that included a black-footed ferret, two stoats, a European polecat, and a weasel.
Ben reached into his hoodie and pulled Ferret Face out. “Okay, buddy, this is your stop.”
It was one thing to find a home for Ferret Face; it was quite another to make him go into it. It took every ounce of strength the two had to disconnect the ferret’s claws from the fleece of the hoodie. Even then, the creature tried to wrestle his way out of Ben’s hands, wriggling and spitting. He was just a few inches from the opening when he suddenly froze, eyes fixed inside the display. There, looking out at him, displaying similar markings, was another ferret — a little larger, but otherwise identical.