“No competition,” the woman promised. “Come back before we close, or you’ll miss the opportunity of a lifetime.”

  Trevor leaned close to Nate. “I’d pay to not see a guy growing fruit on his elbow.”

  They reached a huge opening in the floor of the cavern. A steady rush of cold wind gushed from below. On one edge of the crater, they found a game called Kite Bombers. Contestants used the updraft to fly kites with explosives up to a box kite controlled by an expert. The box kite swerved and dodged, avoiding contact with the pursuing kites. As Nate and the others watched, four competing contestants failed to destroy the box kite in the allotted two minutes, though a pair of the exploding kites destroyed each other.

  Beyond the crater huddled a compound of Quonset huts, their long, arched roofs fabricated from corrugated steel. A sign out front declared the complex the Intercontinental Menagerie.

  “Should we check it out?” Pigeon asked.

  “I don’t know,” Nate said.

  “We can’t just investigate the attractions from the street,” Pigeon said.

  A paper gently slapped the back of Nate’s head and stuck there, held in place by a stiff breeze. Had the current of air come from the crater? He snatched the paper and found it was another pink flyer for the menagerie.

  Nate turned around, holding out the paper to Trevor. “Did you do this?”

  Trevor raised both hands. “I can’t summon wind.”

  Nate looked at the flyer. “Then maybe it’s a sign. We should check it out.”

  “What do you think about the other people down here?” Pigeon asked.

  “What do you mean?” Nate replied.

  “If there is only one train back up, how many in the crowd can be normal customers? There are thousands of people down here. Do they stay here all the time? Are they even real people?”

  “They seem real,” Trevor said.

  Pigeon shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Let’s think about it while we investigate,” Nate said.

  They walked to the front door where an old bald man with wispy facial hair sat with his legs crossed. He wore suspenders, corduroy pants, argyle socks, and loafers. “You kids want to venture inside?”

  “What does it cost?” Summer asked.

  “You’re topsiders, yes?” the man asked. “One ticket from above for each entrant will do.”

  Pigeon ripped off four tickets and handed them to the man. He accepted them gingerly.

  “Young and alive with your pockets full of tickets,” the old man said with a grin. “You’re in the salad days, that’s for sure. Inside the menagerie, you can pet the baby camel and the stingrays. For a small extra contribution, you can hold a koala and feed some of the carnivores. The workers inside will clarify as needed.”

  Nate passed through the door into a long, well-lit room that smelled of fur, manure, and wood shavings. He saw the camels first—a shaggy Bactrian, two dromedaries, and a little one, all corralled together near the center of the space. Pens along the edge of the room held a variety of other animals. Nate spotted a pair of giant pandas on the far side of the room. He also noticed warthogs nearby, some kind of gazelle, and an elephant whose big head and ears seemed out of scale with its relatively small body. A sign on the wall proclaimed Marvelous Mammals.

  “These conditions aren’t great for the animals,” Summer said. “Are they even allowed to have pandas?”

  “Maybe somebody dreamed them here,” Trevor said. “At least the pens are fairly big. They have space to move around.”

  “But they deserve better environments,” Summer said. “Sunlight and plants and room to run.”

  “I like that they’re so close,” Pigeon said. “At a lot of zoos, the animals have places to hide and you can barely see them. Cool, there’s the okapi!” Pigeon started walking toward a back corner of the long room. Trevor and Summer followed, with Nate trailing behind.

  Nate analyzed the pen with the warthogs. Could there be hidden coin slots here? Were there deeper secrets?

  He moved past the warthogs to the sloths, and then to the aardvarks. They were such odd animals with their long, tubular snouts. Nate was pretty sure they ate ants.

  One of the aardvarks came to the side of the pen as if drawn to Nate. “We don’t have much time,” the aardvark said in Mozag’s voice.

  “Mozag?” Nate asked, crouching down.

  “Not so loud,” Mozag the aardvark said. “I’ve kept silent so they couldn’t identify me. Now that I’m breaking my silence, it won’t be long until they find me out.”

  “I saw you change into an aardvark in a dream,” Nate said.

  “Bingo, kid,” Mozag replied. “That dream really happened.”

  “How did you get here?” Nate asked.

  “This carnival is a crossroads between the dreamscape and the waking world,” Mozag said. “I came here via the dream route. I found the menagerie and posed as a typical aardvark. I sensed when you and your friends arrived at the undercarnival. In my present state, my magic is limited, but I managed to send the flyers your way, trying to get your attention.”

  “It worked,” Nate said.

  “Listen, this carnival is evil,” Mozag said. “If the owners have their way, the dreamscape will swallow reality as we know it. They must be stopped. You have to find where the sleepers are located.”

  “What sleepers?” Nate asked.

  “Dreams must be powered by sleepers,” Mozag said. “I can sense sleepers here in this carnival, trapped in a powerful dream state. Permanently dreaming. I suspect their dreams are integral to this carnival. You and your friends must find them and help them awaken. You’ll need a skeleton key.”

  “Where do I get that?” Nate asked.

  “Win it,” Mozag said. “I’m not sure where. I’m telling you what I have managed to perceive in this limited state. There are many locks in this carnival, and many keys, but the skeleton key opens all the locks. It can be obtained by winning some of the harder games. Look around.”

  “We have to get you out of here,” Nate said.

  “We’re all caught in the same web,” Mozag said. “You have to bring down the carnival. Start by wakening the sleepers. Now go. The roustabouts are coming.”

  “Who?” Nate asked.

  “Enforcers employed by the carnival,” Mozag said. “Tough guys in old-timey clothes and hats. Steer clear. You don’t want to get linked to me. Find the lock at the bottom of the Fun House.”

  “I know about a coin slot on the floor of a ball pit,” Nate said.

  “That might be a secret passage,” Mozag said. “I’m talking about an actual keyhole. You’ll have to search deep. This info was difficult to obtain. Don’t waste it. Tell John to bring everything he has. We’re dealing with an extinction-level threat. Go.”

  The aardvark turned and padded to the far side of the enclosure, no longer paying any attention to Nate. Following Mozag’s instructions, Nate caught up to Pigeon and the others by the okapi. He watched from the corner of his eye as three burly men in flat caps and simple clothing entered the building.

  Carrying blackjacks, they marched toward the aardvarks.

  Chapter Twenty

  Upward

  Looking ahead at the okapi, Nate laid one hand on Pigeon’s shoulder and the other on Summer’s. “Mozag is here,” he whispered.

  “What?” Pigeon asked, looking around.

  “Don’t be conspicuous,” Nate said, glancing over at the roustabouts climbing into the aardvark enclosure. “He’s an aardvark.”

  Trevor moved closer. “Really?”

  “Are those guys after him?” Summer asked.

  “Mozag called them roustabouts,” Nate said. “Keep your eyes on the okapi.”

  “Mozag is the most powerful magician we know,” Pigeon said. “He’s bailed us out in the past.”

  “Shouldn’t we help him?” Summer asked.

  “Not according to Mozag,” Nate said. “He gave me a message. We have an assignment. We need to get out of here.” He glanced over and saw a writhing aardvark being shoved into a coarse sack.

  “I could use my Clown Lips,” Summer said, reaching for the candy.

  “No,” Nate said. “Where do we go if we start a fight down here?”

  “But we can’t let them take Mozag,” Summer insisted.

  The roustabouts exited the aardvark enclosure. The animal in the bag had gone limp.

  “He told me the way to save him and everyone else is to bring down the carnival,” Nate said.

  “They’re looking around,” Pigeon said.

  “Don’t return eye contact,” Nate said, staring at the zebra-striped legs of the okapi.

  “Two of the men are leaving,” Trevor said. “One is coming this way.”

  “Should we run?” Pigeon asked, a tremor in his voice.

  “No way,” Nate whispered. “Be cool. Act oblivious.”

  “I’ll keep the lips ready,” Summer whispered.

  “Yeah,” Nate agreed, fingering the Cannon Blast in his pocket.

  The roustabout stood directly behind Nate and tapped a blunt finger on his shoulder. He turned and looked up at the man. The guy had a square face and a nose that had been broken once or twice. His blocky build made him imposing.

  “You kids found your way down here early,” the roustabout said, his voice deep and a little gravelly.

  “We tried a coin in the roller coaster slot,” Nate said. “Seemed obvious after the bumper cars. Is there a problem?”

  “You’re welcome to explore,” the roustabout said. “Encouraged even. But respectfully. Why talk to the aardvark?”

  “I’m a little different from other kids my age,” Nate said. “I find aardvarks adorable.”

  “One of those aardvarks is a troublemaker,” the roustabout said. “What do you know about him?”

  “He eats bugs?” Nate tried.

  The roustabout glanced at the other kids.

  “Why did you stuff him in a sack?” Summer asked.

  “That’s what happens to troublemakers,” the roustabout said flatly.

  “Isn’t that cruelty to animals?” Summer asked. “I want to talk to your manager.”

  The roustabout exhaled sharply through his nostrils. “You really don’t.”

  “I feel like we’re being harassed,” Summer said. She looked at Trevor. “Do you feel targeted?”

  “A little,” Trevor said.

  “If we harass you, there will be no debate about what is happening,” the roustabout said, cracking his knuckles. “Play by the rules, and we won’t have to interrupt the game.”

  “We’re just exploring,” Nate said. “We paid tickets to come in here. What game are you talking about?”

  “Steer clear of talking aardvarks,” the roustabout said.

  “I don’t even speak aardvark,” Nate said. “I didn’t build this zoo. I didn’t put aardvarks here. We got lured in by promises of seeing weird animals.”

  The roustabout surveyed the room. “I’d say you’re getting your money’s worth.” He tipped his cap. “Enjoy.” He turned and started walking away.

  “What will you do to the aardvark?” Summer asked.

  The roustabout stopped and looked at her over his shoulder. “Same thing we always do to troublemakers. We’ll put it to sleep.” He strolled away.

  After the roustabout exited the building, Nate, Summer, Trevor, and Pigeon huddled to talk.

  “I thought that was going to be a fight for sure,” Trevor said.

  “What do you think he meant about putting Mozag to sleep?” Summer asked. “Like, at the animal shelter?”

  “He was trying to intimidate us,” Nate said.

  “He did a solid job,” Pigeon muttered.

  “What mission did Mozag give us?” Trevor asked.

  “We’re supposed to find the sleepers,” Nate said. “People stuck in the carnival, permanently dreaming.”

  “Where are they?” Summer asked.

  “We need a skeleton key,” Nate said. “We can supposedly win one at some of the harder games. Then we have to open a lock deep beneath the Fun House. That’s all I know.”

  “Then let’s get going,” Trevor said. “I saw a lot of games out there.”

  *****

  At 11:52 p.m., Nate sat hunched on a bench in the underground station, elbows on his knees. Pigeon sat on the floor, leaning into a corner, eyes drooping. Summer shuffled through a small stack of handouts and brochures she had acquired. Trevor paced back and forth.

  “Pidge,” Nate said. “You can’t sleep.”

  “What?” Pigeon asked, blinking. “I’m just resting my eyes a little.”

  Trevor stalked over to Pigeon, seized his hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Wrong answer,” Trevor scolded. “Do I have to make you do jumping jacks?”

  “Sorry,” Pigeon said, slapping his cheeks. “Waiting is hard.”

  “Then keep moving,” Trevor said.

  “Anything in those papers?” Nate asked Summer.

  “Not much,” she replied.

  They had scoured the undercarnival, paying extra attention to the games, asking about a skeleton key. Some people had heard of them, but nobody knew where to obtain one. They checked on the prize at the Brawling Alley, but it was an Enchanted Carnie Coin. Summer had collected all the flyers and leaflets she could find in hopes of discovering clues.

  “I really am so tired,” Pigeon said. “I can’t shake it off.”

  Nate got up and walked over to him. “We’re all tired. But you know the deal. We have to stay awake.”

  “Maybe some French fries would help,” Trevor suggested.

  Pigeon grabbed his stomach with both hands and groaned. “It may be a long time before I eat fries again.”

  They had eaten at an establishment called the Potato Mill. Dinner had consisted of standard French fries, curly fries, steak fries, garlic fries, waffle fries, shoestring fries, tater tots, hash browns, potato skins, potato wedges, potato cakes, and baked potatoes with a stunning variety of toppings and dipping sauces. It had tasted so good, they all ate until they felt ready to burst.

  “What excuse should we give when we get home?” Nate asked, hoping fear would help rouse Pigeon.

  “What can we say?” Pigeon lamented. “We’re doomed. It would be better if I had been kidnapped. Then at least I could blame the criminals.”

  “I’m going to try to sneak in,” Summer said. “If my parents can’t pinpoint what time I arrived, they can’t be as mad.”

  “Won’t your parents be awake?” Pigeon asked.

  “Probably,” Summer said. “But if I can sneak past them, eventually they just find me sleeping in bed. When they ask, I’ll just pretend I don’t know what time I got in and say that I was so tired I went right to my room.”

  “It’s a stretch,” Pigeon said. “But better than no plan.”

  “Almost makes me miss white fudge,” Trevor said.

  Nate chuckled. The treat Belinda White had made rendered parents oblivious to practical concerns, almost zombified. “Do we have any left?”

  “We could ask Mr. Stott,” Pigeon said.

  “No,” Nate said. “That stuff was bad news. We can’t be drugging our parents to get out of trouble.”

  “Could we make up a story?” Trevor wondered. “I mean, we’re here because the carnival is a threat. We’re not just messing around. It’s a crisis, but not one we can talk about. We’re justified in making up an emergency.”

  “Like what?” Summer asked.

  “Somebody’s appendix burst,” Trevor said.

  “We were taken hostage,” Nate tried.

  “We got trapped in a cave,” Pigeon proposed.

  “The cave one isn’t bad,” Summer said. “And almost completely true.”

  They heard the rattle of an approaching train.

  “Here we go,” Nate said.

  Several other people appeared on the platform, all of them adults. It was hard to tell whether they were carnival guests, employees, or a mix. The oncoming train got louder, then quieted as it pulled into the station and came to a stop. Every seat was empty.

  The old conductor came out of the station. “Tickets, please,” he called out. “Nobody rides without a ticket.”

  Some of the adults walked over to him and started handing him undertickets. Nate approached and asked, “How many tickets do you need?”

  The conductor waved him away. “You already presented your tickets on the other end.”

  Riders were claiming seats. The train was about halfway full, with the most open seats toward the middle. Trevor sat by Summer and Nate sat with Pigeon.

  “Pull those lap bars down,” the conductor said, strolling parallel to the train. “Consider removing hats, or at least hang on to them.”

  A passenger toward the front of the train took off his cowboy hat.

  The train lurched forward without warning, the acceleration pinning Nate back against the seat. Cool air whooshed by as their velocity increased. The track curved upward, stalactites blurring past on either side. The thunder of their passage echoed down branching caverns, multiplying the uproar. The track became nearly vertical, spiraling. They rose with an acceleration similar to falling. In one area, the track folded back on itself in a pretzel shape, threading between rock outcroppings. Some stretches of the cave were dark, others lit by flickering torches or steadily glowing blue globes.

  After a particularly fast and steep ascent through the dark that made Nate think of astronauts blasting off, the train shot out of the tube. They were back on the normal wooden roller coaster! Stars shimmered overhead in a black sky.

  The ups and downs of the traditional roller coaster seemed tame compared to the underground track. After some final bouncy little hills, the train slowed and clattered into the boarding area. There were no ride attendants in view.