The Secret Zoo by Bryan Chick Page B

the TV remote and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Her slippers were pink and furry, and they looked like two pink Chihuahuas begging for a snack. She surfed the channels.
    Ella tried to pinpoint what was bugging her. The clock above the television said it was midnight. Right now, Noah would be checking his mailbox.
    A man on the TV was sitting in a diner, puffing a cigarette. Across from him was another man. The man with the cigarette passed a wad of cash across the table, and in an instant, a team of police officers burst into the room and handcuffed him. What had happened was obvious: the man smoking the cigarette had been framed.
    The remote slipped from Ella’s fingers and crashed to the floor. She suddenly knew what was bothering her.
    â€œNoah…” she muttered. “He’s being set up.”
    She sprang from the sofa and stood in the middle of the living room, not sure what to do.
    â€œNow wait a minute,” she whispered. “That guy—Tank—he’s on our team.”
    Was that true? How could she know? She couldn’t. That was the problem. Ella ran for the door, grabbed her jacket and earmuffs, and bolted outside, not bothering to change out of her slippers. She raced across her lawn and headed for Noah’s house.

CHAPTER 12
T HE S POTTED M ESSENGER
    N oah stood beside his mailbox and watched the animal close in on him, a silhouette against the deeper black of night. It wore the darkness like a cloak. Noah could make out the way it resembled a dog, only taller and leaner. Its legs were blurs along its sides. The thing rounded a turn in the street, its paws drumming the pavement, and streaked through a spray of porch light. For a second Noah saw the primary markings on its fur.
    Spots.
    It ran past the Mathurases’ house, trotted past the Smiths’ bungalow, and within seconds was less than fivehouses away. The night seemed to melt off its body as it slowly became visible. Noah saw its pointed ears, its white chin, its short snout, its coal-black nose. Then he saw the details in the animal’s markings: black lines and black dots and an overall color that appeared to be orange. The animal abruptly came to a near stop less than ten feet away from Noah. As it prowled the remaining distance, Noah swung around his mailbox for protection. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A cheetah! As crazy as it seemed, a wildcat from the zoo was loose in Noah’s neighborhood.
    Noah was so nervous that he made a joke. “You’re late, you know.”
    The cheetah advanced carefully and deliberately, stopped in front of Noah, and rolled its head from side to side. Noah saw its coarse white whiskers and marks that fell like tears from the corners of its eyes. In its mouth was a small woven pouch.
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    The animal dropped the pouch and stared at Noah. It tipped its head to one side, growled softly, and nudged the pouch forward with the tip of its nose.
    â€œWhat’s inside?” Noah asked.
    The cheetah gave Noah a final look. It whisked around in a flash and raced back down the street, swinging its long tail. In a matter of seconds, it had disappeared into the night.
    Noah looked down at the pouch. He didn’t want to open it.
    â€œOh boy,” he muttered. “This is crazy. I’ve got to tell Mom and Dad or somebody.”
    But then he remembered Tank’s warning: “Tell nobody…. The more people that know about this, the more dangerous it could get.”
    Then again, was Tank really on his side? Noah snagged the pouch off the lawn and opened it. Something fell out and clinked on the pavement. A gold key!
    â€œWhat—?”
    Inside was a note. Noah pulled it out and squinted at the page. He couldn’t see the words. He charged up his driveway and opened his mother’s car door, activating the dome light. Noah fell into the passenger seat and read the note.
    Noah,
    Here’s the key to the