Terror at the Zoo (4 page)

She followed him along the path toward the Elephant Forest.

“There he is,” Corey said. “That’s him, all right.”

Corey was right. The African elephant that they had helped bathe was standing at the edge of the Elephant Forest. Hugo was the zoo’s oldest elephant: fifty-nine years old, the same age as Ellen’s grandma. They had joked about that with Grandma while they washed him.

“Let’s see if we can make Hugo purr,” Corey said.

The elephants’ trainer had told them that elephants sometimes purr, just the way cats do. “They do it when they’re content,” the trainer had said, “when they’re with someone they trust. It’s a low, rumbling purr and you might not be able to hear it.”

The trainer also said Hugo liked music. He sang a song to Hugo, hoping to make Hugo purr for Ellen and Corey. Hugo seemed to like the song but he hadn’t purred.

Together, Corey and Ellen crossed the path and got as close to the elephant area as they could.

“Hey, Hugo,” Corey called. “Some of the zebras learned to hula and they’re going to Hollywood to star in a movie.”

Hugo rubbed his side against the fence.

Ellen blotted out the sound of Corey’s voice and focused all her thoughts on the big elephant.

Hello, Hugo
, she said in her mind.
I am your friend. I am glad to see you. You are a magnificent elephant.

Hugo turned his head and looked at Ellen. His trunk reached out toward her, sniffing the air. His wide ears were flat on either side of his head, like giant wings waiting to spread. Ellen suppressed a giggle. Maybe it’s the elephants, not the giraffes, that fly around at night, she thought. Like Dumbo.

“Is he doing it?” Corey said. “Can you hear any purring?”

Ellen heard nothing. But the elephant
did
seem to be staring at her. Was he just curious? Could he possibly remember them, from when they gave him a bath nearly two years ago? Or had he somehow received Ellen’s mental message?

She beamed it again.
We are glad to see you, elephant friend.

“I think he remembers us,” Corey said. “Wow! Wait until Mom and Dad hear about this.”

The mention of their parents reminded Ellen that they were supposed to be watching the gate. “Come on,” she said. “We have to stay by the gate. We don’t want to miss Mom and Dad.”

She checked the entrance area and then returned to the bench, disappointed to see that the giraffe had moved on. Corey kept wandering down the path, trying to see where the dancing zebras were. Finally, to keep him in sight,
Ellen suggested that they take the sleeping bags to the North Meadow and leave them in the tent.

“Maybe Mom and Dad are already there,” Corey said. “If they got here just as the zoo was closing, maybe they went in a different gate and they’re waiting for us by the tent.”

Ellen didn’t point out that Mom and Dad had no way to know where the tent was.

They passed the Family Farm area, where children are allowed to pet donkeys, pigs, and sheep. They passed the orangutans and the gorillas. They passed the Nocturnal House, Ellen’s favorite zoo exhibit.

It was always dark inside the Nocturnal House, and visitors stood on the walkway surrounded by glass walls. After their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could look through the glass to the dimly lit treetops on the other side where owls sat, and possums hung by their tails, and giant bats slowly unfolded their wings. When Ellen was in the Nocturnal House, she always felt as if she were hiding in the trees and spying on the nocturnal animals through a secret peephole.

“We’ll still stay, won’t we?” Corey said. “Even if Mom and Dad don’t come?”

“I don’t know.” Ellen wasn’t quite ready to deal with that possibility.

“We have to,” Corey said. “I bet a kid in my class that I was going to spend all night at the zoo tonight and if I don’t do it, I’ll lose ten dollars.”

“Ten dollars! Why did you make such a big bet? Why didn’t you bet a nickel or a dime?”

“Because I knew I would win.” He kicked a pebble and sent it skittering down the path ahead of them. “I don’t even have ten dollars,” he admitted. “I’ll have it on Monday, though, when I win the bet. I should have tried to bet with a whole bunch of kids. If lots of kids had bet that I wasn’t sleeping at the zoo tonight, I could collect tons of money on Monday.” They caught up with the pebble and he kicked it again. “I should have tried to bet with at least twenty kids. Maybe even thirty.”

“I doubt there are twenty kids in your school who would be stupid enough to make a ten-dollar bet,” Ellen said, as they approached the North Meadow.

Corey spotted the tent. “There it is,” he yelled, as he dropped the two sleeping bags he was carrying and dashed across the meadow. Seconds later, he emerged from the tent, calling, “They aren’t in here.”

Ellen had known they wouldn’t be. When Mom and Dad got to the zoo, they would come to the south gate, as instructed, even if it was late.

She bent to pick up the sleeping bags that Corey had dropped. As she did, she glimpsed a flash of red through the trees. For an instant, she thought it was a person, someone wearing a red coat or a red shirt. But when she turned to get a better look, no one was there.

Probably a red leaf, Ellen thought. A bright autumn leaf, falling from one of the trees.

D
USK
settled over the meadow. A single star glimmered low in the darkening sky.

Star light, star bright, first star I’ve seen tonight.
The old chant ran through Ellen’s mind.
I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight.

She closed her eyes briefly.
I wish Mom and Dad would get here.

She opened the flap of the tent and peeked in. Corey was rummaging in the ice chest.

“Sandwiches,” he announced. “And apples and brownies. Let’s eat the brownies first.”

“We can eat later,” she said. “We need to get back to the gate so we don’t miss Mom and Dad. They’re probably waiting for us.”

“What if they aren’t there?”

“If they aren’t, we’ll call Grandpa and Grandma.”

“They won’t make us come home, will they?”

She knew he was worried about his ten-dollar bet. “I have no idea what they’ll say,” she said, although she was certain that her grandparents would do exactly that. Most likely, Grandpa and Grandma would come immediately and take them home. Unless Corey could talk Grandpa into staying here overnight and leaving Grandma home by herself. She was sure Corey would try.

“Where are you going to find a telephone?”

“I saw one when we came. It’s just on the other side of the ticket booth, near where the taxi stopped.”

They started back, past the Nocturnal House. “I want to go in the marsh,” Corey said, “and see where the cranes sleep.”

Ellen hesitated. The marsh, she knew, was at the corner of the zoo, near the parking lot. She supposed they could go that way and then take the outside path back to the entrance. It wouldn’t be much out of the way.

When they reached the Family Farm, they left the main path and went toward the marsh. As they drew near the Animal Health Care building, Ellen thought she heard voices.

She ran to the building and tried the door. It was locked. She knocked loudly. No one came. She stood there for a moment, listening and waiting, but she heard nothing more.

“Hurry up,” Corey said. “Maybe the cranes play secret games at night, like duck, duck, gray duck or wingtip tag.”

When they reached the first of the wire doors that led into the marsh area, it was locked.

“We can’t go in,” Corey wailed. “Somebody locked the door.”

“Probably the security guard,” Ellen said. Somehow she felt better, knowing the guard was at the zoo, taking care of his duties.

Instead of taking the outer path, Ellen retraced her steps and led Corey past the Animal Health Care building again. She could swear she had heard someone talking there. She knocked at the door again. There was no answer.

“The light is out now,” Corey said.

“What light?”

“Before when we were here, I could see light under the door. Now I can’t.”

Then someone
had
been inside. More than one person, if she’d heard voices. Why hadn’t they come to the door when she knocked?

“Cross your fingers that Mom and Dad are waiting for us,” she said.

As they approached the entrance area, Corey said, “Let’s tell Mom and Dad that they missed all the excitement. Let’s say a buffalo got loose and it was stampeding down this path, right toward our tent. And you and I waved our arms and got its attention and then we talked to it and got it all calmed down and put it back where it belongs.”

Ellen agreed, knowing Corey would do it whether she said yes or not.

Corey didn’t get to tell his buffalo story.

As they approached the zoo entrance, Ellen could see that no one was there. She tried not to let Corey see her disappointment. When she made the decision to come to the zoo alone, she had been certain that Mom and Dad would arrive shortly. Now she was no longer sure that she had done the right thing.

“It’s lucky for us I always carry money for a phone call,” Ellen said. She took off her left shoe and pulled on the piece of tape that kept the quarter from sliding around.

“You said you didn’t have any money,” Corey complained.

“This is for emergency phone calls only. Mom told me that when she put it in my shoe.”

She put her shoe back on, stood up, and followed Corey toward the entrance walkway.

At exactly the same instant, they saw it. Metal fencing completely blocked both the ticket booth walkways where people entered the zoo. The fencing had been lowered from the ceiling. Ellen peered through the fencing at the telephone.

“We could go out the exit turnstile and call,” Corey said, “but how would we get back in?”

“We won’t. But we have to call and tell Grandma and Grandpa that Mom and Dad haven’t come.”

“Maybe we can climb backward through the turnstile,” Corey said.

They walked to the right, toward the turnstile. When they reached it, Ellen stopped and stared. The turnstile was also blocked by a heavy metal gate.

“It must slide into place after everyone has left for the night,” Ellen said.

Corey pushed on the gate but it didn’t budge. “It’s locked,” he said. “Mom and Dad can’t get in.”

And we can’t get out, Ellen thought. Where were her parents? Even with a delayed flight, they should have reached the zoo by now. Had Corey’s terrible story been a premonition? Had the plane been hijacked? Had it crashed and burned?

She pushed the negative thoughts out of her mind. Her mother always said there was no point worrying because 99 percent of the things we worry about never happen.

“What if Mom and Dad came and they couldn’t get in so they went home?” Corey said.

“If they did, they found our note and know where we are and they’ll make arrangements to get in. They’re probably calling someone from the zoo right now.”

“Mrs. Caruthers isn’t home,” Corey said. “Too bad.”

He didn’t sound like he thought it was too bad. He sounded like he was glad his parents might have a hard time getting into the zoo.

Ellen frowned at him. He was probably concocting all sorts of wild stories about what happened during the zoo night camp-out. When his friends found out that his parents weren’t here, they would believe anything Corey made up.

As if to confirm Ellen’s suspicions, Corey added, “Mom and Dad would make us go to sleep. This way we can stay up all night and have lots of adventures.”

“Aren’t you even worried about Mom and Dad?” Ellen said crossly.

Corey shrugged. “We can’t do anything about it, so why waste time worrying?”

She couldn’t argue with his logic.

“The security guard must have a telephone,” Ellen said. “I wonder where his office is.”

“I don’t know. Let’s go eat; I’m starving.”

Ellen agreed. There must be other telephones; maybe they would find one on their way to the tent. If not, it would be best to stay there and watch for the security guard. They would tell him what had happened. He knew someone was camping in the meadow so he might even come before midnight.

Ellen’s stomach growled. Since she and Corey were apparently going to spend at least part of the night alone in the zoo, they might as well go ahead and enjoy the picnic.

It was dark now. Even with her flashlight on, Ellen could see only a few feet ahead of her. The giant trees that were so magnificent in the sunlight now seemed twisted and sinister.

Ellen shivered. She wished she hadn’t left her sweater in the tent. She wished she could find a telephone. Most of all, she wished she had stayed home.

“Let’s take the path the other way,” Corey said. “We’ll still come to the tent and we might see mountain goats tap-dancing. We can stand on the big rocks and the flashlight can be our spotlight, like we’re in a theater.”

Ellen wondered how Corey could be so unconcerned about their plight. How could he think about dancing goats when they were locked in the zoo all alone?

“It’s much longer to walk that way,” she said. “We’re going straight back to the tent.”

“After they tap-dance, they’ll do ballet.”