Mysteries in Our National Parks: Running Scared: A Mystery in Carlsbad Caverns National Park

To Tom “Boomer” Bemis,

a true hero and an inspiring role model

Text copyright © 2002 Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson

Cover illustration copyright © 2008 Jeffrey Mangiat

All rights reserved.

Reproduction of the whole or any part of the contents is prohibited without written permission from the National Geographic Society, 1145 17th Street N.W., Washington, D.C. 20036.

Map by Carl Mehler, Director of Maps

Map research and production by Joseph F. Ochlak and Equator Graphics

Mexican free-tailed bat art by Joan Wolbier

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to living persons or events other than descriptions of natural phenomena is purely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Skurzynski, Gloria.

Running scared / Gloria Skurzynski and Alane Ferguson. p. cm.—(Mysteries in our national parks; #11)

Summary: While lost in a tunnel at Carlsbad Cavern, thirteen-year-old Jack, eleven-year-old Ashley, and their eight-year-old foster brother, Sam, think bats and darkness are their worst problems, until they stumble across thieves.

ISBN: 978-1-4263-0974-8

[1. Lost children—Fiction. 2. Bats—Fiction.

3. Carlsbad Caverns National Park (N.M.)—Fiction. 4. Foster home care—Fiction.

5. National parks and reserves—Fiction. 6. Mystery and detective stories.]

I. Ferguson, Alane. II. Title. III. Series.

PZ7.S6287 Ru 2002

[Fic]—dc21

2002005277

Version: 2017-07-07

The authors are grateful to those at

Carlsbad Caverns National Park who shared

information and their expertise with us, especially Bob Hoff,

Park Historian;

Myra Barnes, Wildlife Biologist;

Stan Allison, Cave Resource Specialist;

David Roemer, Biologist;

Laura Denny, Park Ranger, Law Enforcement Division; Stacey

Haney, Park Ranger,

Interpretive Division;

and of course Tom Bemis

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AFTERWORD

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

The light from his head-lantern cast deep shadows along the cave walls. Ink-black phantoms seemed to dance across formations like evil spirits, but the man wasn’t afraid. Nothing scared him, except, perhaps, the thought of running out of money. Well, he didn’t have to worry about that, not now. His flashlight felt heavy in his hand as he aimed it at the delicate cave balloon, as fragile and translucent as a soap bubble. It always amazed him what people would pay for a tiny thing like this. He’d have to give part of the payoff to the rock surgeon, but he’d pocket the rest. Easy money.

It was then that he heard the sound.

“You hear that?” he demanded.

Ryan looked up, the blade of his tool glinting in the lamplight. “Hear what? Hey, the Hodags got you spooked? You know, we’re pretty deep in the belly of the cave, all alone in the bowels of the Earth. Legend has it that when the Hodags slither out from their hiding places to—”

“Just shut up and get back to work,” the man snapped. “I’ll tell you one thing—I learned a long time ago to make sure there ain’t no witnesses. If a Hodag-thing is down here, watchin’ what we’re doing, I’ll kill him dead.”

“Yeah. I’m sure you would.” Ryan just shook his head.

“I can’t wait! How much longer until it happens?” Ashley asked, squinting into the desert sky streaked orange by the setting sun. In front of them, the cave entrance loomed large and dark, like a gigantic, yawning mouth. Jack tried not to notice the pungent odor that wafted from Carlsbad Cavern and concentrated instead on adjusting his camera lens, focusing in, then out. Hundreds of park visitors were seated in the stone amphitheater, watching, pointing, waiting for the first wave of bats to spiral out of the entrance. Shifting to get a better view, Jack snapped a picture of cactus that seemed to bubble up from the rock itself. Perfect. With the play between light and shadow, he knew he could get some real quality shots.

“Hey, save some film for the bat flight,” his sister, Ashley, told him.

“I will. I’ve got another roll.”

“Aren’t you excited for them to come out? ’Cause you don’t look too excited.”

“I’m excited,” Jack answered, zooming in on a rock squirrel.

Leaning back on her elbows, Ashley cocked her head and gave him a knowing look. The amphitheater benches were deep, almost three feet of stone and concrete still warm from baking in the day’s sun. With her head tilted that way, Ashley’s dark braids curled like question marks. “Come on, Jack, admit it. No matter what the rangers say, you’re still afraid of bats. You think the bats’ll suck your blood and leave you shriveled up like a raisin.” Pointing a finger, she said, “Remember how you used to try to scare me every time we went camping? You’d say bats always go for girls with long, curly hair. But it was really you who was scared.”

“No way!” Jack snorted. Now that she was 11, Ashley had a little more attitude, but, being two years older, Jack could handle it. Turning to their newest temporary foster child, Jack said, “Sammy, you’ve got to ignore all this blood-sucking stuff. You heard the ranger. The only blood-sucking bats live far, far away from here. The ones in Carlsbad are Mexican free-tailed bats. Free-tailed bats eat tons of bugs, so they’re good bats,” Jack declared. “And I was never afraid of any bats.”