Noah was picked up by the alligator and whipped from side to side. He felt its tongue shift and roll and heat radiate from its throat.
He realized something. Though his torso was being squeezed, he couldn’t feel any pain. He glanced down and saw he was wrapped in the curtain. After stripping it from the rod, he’d become entangled in it. Now, somehow, its magic was protecting him from being mauled to pieces.
The alligator knew nothing of this. It continued to thrash Noah about, trying to snap his spine. One of the alligator’s dark eyes was inches from Noah’s face. The size of a golf ball, it blinked once . . . twice. It was watching Noah, waiting to see the life escape him.
Beside them, the sasquatch swiped mud from its eyes and growled. It prowled toward Noah, ready to strike. As the alligator snapped its head around, Noah swept his legs beneath the sasquatch’s feet, dropping it back to the ground.
Knowing he had to do something, Noah threw a desperate punch against the alligator’s fleshy throat. Its jaws opened, and Noah fell to the ground and rolled aside, shedding the curtain in the process. He jumped to his feet, and the alligator lurched forward and snapped at him, just missing.
Noah sidestepped so the alligator stood between him and the sasquatch. The sasquatch climbed to one knee, its back turned to Noah.
Noah saw an opportunity. He snatched up the curtain in one hand and ran across the alligator’s back. He pitched his arm around, and the curtain opened like a parachute and touched down on the sasquatch, covering its top half. Then he jumped onto the monster’s back and coiled his arms around its neck, cinching the velvet cloth over its head.
The sasquatch lurched forward, blind and confused. It smashed against the wall, crumbling bricks. Noah stared up the tunnel. Close to two hundred feet ahead, he saw the end of it—a point of light shimmering in the waterfall. As many as fifteen alligators separated him from the exit.
Noah cupped his mouth around the monster’s ear. “Grraaaahhhhh!”
The sasquatch spun around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise.
“Graaa-OOOHHH!”
The sasquatch, still crouched, took off running up the tunnel, feeling its way with outstretched arms. It banged against the walls and splashed mud up the bricks. It stepped on alligators, driving their snouts and stomachs to the ground. Noah held on and bounced about, his world blurring back and forth.
“Rrraaaggghh! Erraahhhh! Ahhh!”
The spot of light grew bigger and brighter. The vague spill of the waterfall became beaded streams. Hissing alligators snapped at the sasquatch’s feet, some diving against the walls to avoid being trampled.
“Naarrrggghhh!”
Through the wavering lens of the waterfall, Noah began to make out the shapes of people. Tank and Blizzard and Little Bighorn. Somehow they’d been pulled into the melee. Above them flew a mass of tiny round birds. Chickadees.
The sasquatch burst through the wall of water and carried Noah into the exhibit. It splashed through the shallow pool, then staggered into the hallway. Noah let go and thudded onto his back. He blinked his eyes dry and saw the sasquatch throw off the velvet curtain, only to be covered again, this time with a net.
Feathers rained down on him. Their slow, slicing movements reminded him of leaves falling in the City of Species. The other scouts rushed over and dropped to their knees beside him.
“Noah!” Megan said. “Are you okay?”
Too exhausted for words, Noah nodded.
“The curtain—you got it!”
“It’s done.” Noah stared into the eyes of his friends. “It’s over.”
The scouts collapsed across Noah, their arms draped over one another in a collective embrace.
The chickadees netted the few remaining alligators, then flew down the hall. Tank walked over to Hannah and Solana; together they watched the four friends hold one another.
“That’s what gives them their strength,” Tank said. “What you’re looking at right there is what makes them the scouts.”
A voice spoke behind them. “He’s absolutely right.”
The three Crossers turned to see Mr. Darby. He’d stepped in from the hole in the wall and now stood beside them, his purple trench coat flowing onto the ground. Chickadees were perched along his velvet shoulders.
Mr. Darby touched Tank’s shoulder. “Their strength has its source in their love. And we’ll need that strength in our battles, I assure you.”
Tank looked at the old man. He said nothing.
“Have no doubt. Their power is unique. If victory is ours to be had, it will be their love that helps deliver it.”
Tank remained silent.
“Just wait,” Mr. Darby added with a smile. “One day, Mr. Pangbourne, you will see. One day, you will see.”