by Matt James
“How do we even know he’s here?” I whisper.
Andy glances at me in the moonlight. “I saw Ty run in here as soon as we were attacked. It’s the best lead I have.”
“But it’s been a few days.”
She stops. “Are you here to help me or not?”
I back off. “Okay, I’m helping, I’m helping…”
“Which way should we go first?”
I point. “Forward.”
Andy rubs her face hard but doesn’t stop to chastise me. Quietly, we weave our way through a series of treelined footpaths until we pop out at our first exhibit. The camel that called this pen home is dead, though. All I can see is a lump in the middle of the fenced-in area.
To the right of the camel encounter are the zoo’s offices. I head for the front doors but find them locked, and with no key, the only way in will be a noisy one.
“We’ll try this last,” I say, turning away. Andy nods in agreement, and we continue off, deeper into the grounds.
Thirty feet later, I step on something that crunches and I look down to see what it was. Andy produces a pair of small LED flashlights, turns them both on, and hands me one. Not being able to hold it and my bow and arrow, I put them away, and draw my pistol. Noisy it is! We focus our beams on the object beneath my foot. The sight of it makes me smile.
“Hello there,” I say, doing my best Obi-Wan Kenobi.
I don’t check to see if Andy gets the reference or not. Instead, I reach down and snag the zoo map. It’s a little tattered and torn, but it’ll do.
“Let’s see…” I say, tapping the full-color paper. “We’re here.”
Andy reads it. “Looks like we can head left toward the Corcovado Jungle, or head right toward the Gombe Forest.”
“Both sound terrible,” I say.
She nods. “Yep.”
I look closer and see that the map has a small overview of each section and the species that headline them.
“Corcovado Jungle… Spider monkey, capybara, jaguar.”
Andy quickly shakes her head. “No thanks.”
“Agreed,” I say, taking a deep breath.
“How ’bout the forest?”
Andy reads off the animals. “African Aviary exhibit, chimpanzee, black mangabey.”
“What the hell is a mangabey?”
She shrugs. “No idea. Still can’t be worse than a jaguar, though.”
She’s right, and we head that way.
A feral cry to our left, back toward the Corcovado Jungle and its jaguar, gives us a little boost and we hurry away. The big cat is still alive, and I’m not in the mood to see if it’s an Unseen version or not. Jaguars are one of the most successful hunters in the world, and we’d be easy targets in a setting such as this. Our flashlights are doing their job, but it’s still very dark. Plus, we’re keeping them pointed at the ground for the most part. We don’t need to roll an ankle right now.
We cautiously pass by an enclosed, cave-like pathway that leads back to the Corcovado Jungle. Both of our lights play over the inside entrance and find nothing, but just as we turn away, the same predatory roar from earlier echoes from somewhere within the creepy-ass corridor.
Andy and I look at one another and take off running further down the Gombe Forest’s footpath. We slide to a stop in front of a sign that fills me with dread.
“Coyote, bobcat, cougar… Really?”
“Sounds terrible,” Andy says, pulling my sleeve. “This way.”
She leads me past another sign that directs us toward the Himalayan Passage. The coyote habitat is a viewing window, and the opposite side of the glass is smeared with blood.
It’s safe to assume the coyote didn’t make it.
We haul ass straight to the Asian-inspired pavilion. The building that houses the rare red panda is built to look like a prayer temple. Beautiful Himalayan prayer flags dangle and billow in the wind as it picks up behind us. The bone-chilling cry of our hunter picks up again too.
And it's close.
“We need to lose it inside,” Andy says, stating the obvious.
Our footfalls pound hard against the wood entrance. It’s a bridge that spans two separate exhibits, but neither one of us stops to see which animals they are. Andy heads right and scales the stairs just beyond a sign that advertises the red panda’s indoor viewing habitat.
We reach the second floor, and I grab the knob—but nothing happens when I try to turn it. It’s locked and won’t budge. Andy dashes around to the back of the second story exhibit and curses.
“No good back here. It’s blocked.”
I see the same thing moments later. The glass partition that separates us from something called a “langur” is broken and has collapsed atop the narrow walkway. The entire area is black, charred. Burner. We’re about to backtrack and find another way, but we hear a low, guttural snarl behind us, back down the stairs.
“Down,” I say, shoving Andy toward the opening into the langur habitat.
“But—”
“Go!” I urge. “We need to hide.”
She doesn’t argue with me, and we both jump through the broken glass, careful not to cut ourselves before we drop eight feet to the grass below. When we land, something squeaks in the shadows to our right, but it sounds more frightened than aggressive. While Andy’s eyes go straight for the opening, looking for our pursuer, I concentrate on finding us a way out.
“Hurry…” Andy says, never taking her eyes off the entrance.
I find an escape route seconds later, just as a shape appears above us. I all but drag her through the constricted opening in the fencing to our right. Andy is complaining about something the entire time while yanking on my arm the whole time.
We’re birthed from the jagged breakage and spill into the next-door enclosure and roll to a stop just as something slams into the partition on the other side. Whatever hit it, jaguar or not, it was big. The creature roars into the opening, but I can’t see what it is through the bushes and shadows. Both Andy and I backpedal and spill into a water source, splashing into the shallow pool together.
The dip is exhilaratingly refreshing, but mostly it's bitterly cold.
My flashlight is floating nearby, and when I gaze into its half-drowned beam, I see something I don’t like. The entire pool is red with blood, and there are furry, bloated bodies floating alongside us.
“Frank?”
“What!” I hiss.
“The habitat.”
“What about it?” I ask, struggling to climb out of the crimson water.
“It belongs to a snow leopard.”
I get one foot out of the pool and turn toward her, keeping my foot planted in the grass beyond its rim. I was kind of hoping that it was the home to another small monkey or something. The last thing we need is another big, hungry cat. But as soon as I fully emerge from the disgusting ice spa, I see that I won't get my wish.
My flashlight slips out of my cold, wet fingers, rolls, and stops next to a corpse of white and grey fur. The deceased snow leopard is of normal size as well. It may not have changed at all, unlike Babe, the giant pig, back in Florida.
The fence shakes from another impact, timed perfectly with a roar so loud that it threatens to pop my eardrums. Metal shrieks as the creature pushes itself further into the opening. The langur hasn’t stopped crying out in fright either. I was hoping the jaguar would’ve turned its attention on the easier-to-catch prey by now, but apparently, it wants the girthier meal more. Us.
And it’s most definitely a jaguar. My flashlight settles on the fence, and I get a good look at its blood-red face. Terrified, I search every square inch of the snow leopard pen for an exit, but our only option is the broken section we were avoiding earlier and the fence between the two habitats leads up to it. If we can climb the fencing and head right, we might be able to shimmy over the broken stonework and glass and circumvent the red panda viewing area along the other side of the blocked pathway.
“Up!” I shout, rushing forward.
As soon as I grab the fence, it bucks and knocks me away, but I quickly find a handhold and dig the toe of my right shoe in. I scurry up the fence and hang on every time I feel it move. Twice, my feet were tossed, but I kept my grip. Andy is trying to keep up and is having trouble with her hands.
“Keep moving, Andy!” I shout, cheering her on. “Don’t stop!”
She screams when the fence shudders and leans forward, back into the langur exhibit. But as it tips, our angle is made better, and we both start to make better progress. I’m first to reach the opening, and I use my flashlight to clear away some of the glass from the splintered framework. The pieces of the collapsed wall are wedged tight and make for good handholds—as long as I don’t accidentally grab a shard of glass.
From my higher vantage point, I see the back end of the creature, just making out the rear legs and tail of a large cat. It’s larger than usual, but it didn’t mutate like the polar bear in Manhattan or even the dogs on Lake Worth Beach, but it is slightly bigger—girthier really.
Like a well-fed house cat.
The jaguar hasn’t ventured too far from home because of all the easy meals it has here. And now we have just become the next one because we climbed into one of the enclosures.
Stupid decision.
“Frank!”
The fence shrieks in protest and tips like a cut redwood, coming to a jarring halt at a forty-five-degree angle. Andy is bounced hard but somehow keeps her grip on the chain link. But her feet come free and her lower half is flung high into the air almost flipping her over onto her back. For a split-second, she’s doing a perfect handstand, minus her flailing legs.
She’s fifteen feet from me and a couple feet below my perch. Unfortunately, she’s still too far away for me to reach and help her.
“Crawl!” I shout. “Get as close as you can!”
Now, with the cat pinned beneath the fence, Andy is being tossed around like she’s a human-sized can of paint at Home Depot. After what seems like minutes, she’s now just out of reach of my outstretched hand. If I can get a solid hold on her, I think I can steady her enough for her to stand and jump.
The fence tips more.
“Now or never!”
The fence breaks away from the wall just as Andy leaps into the air, using the flexible chain link as a springboard. I snag one of her hands with both of mine and brace for what I know is going to hurt.
Gravity desperately tries to return her to ground level, but I keep her aloft as she swings into the wall beneath my feet. But that’s all I can do. I’m too tired and sore to pull her up higher. I readjust my grip and concentrate on not dropping her as she walks up the wall, using pieces of the partition and fence as steps.
After a few excruciatingly-long seconds, she makes it high enough to finish the climb on her own. We fall backward and roll down the other side of the broken wall and struggle to our feet. From somewhere in the dark below, we hear the big cat crying into the air as it tries to free itself from its makeshift prison.
“We need to go,” I say, ushering Andy along.
Together, we round the back of the building housing the red panda and stumble down a second set of steps toward the wooden bridge at the front of the Asian pavilion. We continue forward, back underneath the prayer flags and stop, hands on knees, when we reach the main walkway.
“Now…where?” I ask, breathing hard.
Andy stands tall, hands on her hips. She lets out one more long breath before answering me. When she does, it’s with a shake of her head.
“There’s no way Ty survived all this.” She looks down at me, eyes watering. “We should go.”
Unlike Andy, and her brother, I'm not ready to give up yet, but I do want to leave before our luck is tested again. The zoo has been completely void of any and all Unseen people. Either the cat has killed its competition for food, or they’re still here, and we’ve yet to encounter them.
A loud bang is followed by a roar. Both sounds startle us and get us moving again. Damn, this place has got me jumpy! I unwillingly follow Andy back to the front of the zoo, awkwardly checking behind us every few feet. I still have my flashlight, but Andy lost hers during the ascent to freedom. If I’m too quick, I won’t see anything, and if I’m too slow, Andy won’t be able to see anything in front of her.
I remember to follow through with my promise to recheck the zoo offices before leaving. When I grab the handle, I see a figure appear on the opposite side of the glass door and it scares the ever-living-shit out of me. I fall back and go for my gun, but I’m stopped by Andy’s voice.
“Ty!”
The door swings open and out steps a guy who barely looks old enough to be in his twenties, but Andy did say he was a rookie on the force. His left arm is in a t-shirt-made sling, and his face is bruised and swollen.
My eyes open wide.
“Hang on a second!” I yell, getting to my feet. I look at Andy and point back into the park. “After all that happened back there, your nephew was here the entire time?”
Ty looks back and forth between his aunt and me.
He shrugs. “I was sleeping in back when I heard something trying to get in. I came to check it out and nothing was there—you must have already been gone by the time I got here. Then, I saw a large shadow pacing the grounds off in the distance.” He looks sorry. “I figured it was the jaguar trying to get in again. She’s been hunting the zoo for days, and I haven’t been able to leave.” HE blushes. “I lost my gun when I ran.”
It’s an innocent enough explanation, a story of bad timing on our part.
I’m not having any of it, however.
“Are you fucking kidding me!”
9
My curse-laden tirade ended when a horrifying scream picked up around us. I couldn’t see where it was coming from, only that it was building up to what I figured would be one hell of a climax. Then, out in front of the zoo somewhere, a light as bright as the sun blinked to life within the pitch of the night. Just as quickly as it appeared, the fireball winked out and was immediately followed by another scream and a boom.
I just witnessed a burner going supernova.
I was about to go off on Ty again, but the next sound we heard was the jaguar’s, and it sounded really close. The two Daniels and I took our chances and rushed to the waiting SUV and quickly dove inside. It seemed that our entrance into the zoo gave Ty the chance he needed to escape unscathed. Yes, it was a complete waste of time, and we almost died multiple times, but we fulfilled our mission and got him out alive.
As we pulled out onto the main road, I could plainly see where the burner had been only seconds ago. The asphalt outside of the turnoff into the zoo was burnt and smoking. The melted road left by the Unseen reminds me of some sort of hellish crop circle because all that is left is an ominous, smoking, circular pattern.
No body. No pieces. Nothing. Just a blast mark.
Upon our return to the hospital, Andy pulls the vehicle right up to the front door, instead of out back in the middle of the lot. This announces our arrival and alerts everyone who is sleeping in the lobby that we’ve returned. Not that they knew. The doors burst open before Ty can reveal himself, and before Tyson Sr. can erupt on Andy and me, I lay him out on the front steps of the hospital with one solid blow to the jaw.
Just as he hits the ground, the rear door opens, and Ty leaps out yelling, “Dad!”
Tyson’s face swiftly goes from one of anger to one of happiness when he sees that his boy is alive and well. I cross my arms, still standing over the Daniel men.
“My family. Now.”
Tyson’s men balk at my command, but he doesn’t. The CPD Lieutenant nods as he wipes the blood from his lower lip never once taking his eyes off me. I’m beyond angry right now, but I’m trying to keep it under control so we can get the hell out of Dodge.
Jill and Hope arrive first, then my parents. Each of them stands behind me and waits. But instead of turning around, I step forward and reach a hand down and help
Tyson to his feet.
“Uh,” he says, unsure. He glances at his son, and then his sister and back to me. “Thank you—both of you.”
I don’t acknowledge his thanks. I pull him in close and whisper, “Imagine if I wasn’t here. You left your own son out there to die.” I push him away. “You’re a disgrace to the uniform.” I point at his sister. “She has more balls than you do, Lieutenant.” I look at Andy. “Maybe you should be in charge from now on.”
She tries to hide her grin but fails.
I turn my attention back to Tyson, my rage building. “I’m gonna need a few things.”
“Here.” Andy tosses me the keys to her SUV. “It’s all gassed up and ready to go. Everyone’s things are already in the trunk from earlier.” She winks at me. “Plus a few thank yous of my own.”
I take the offered keys and give her a wink back, tipping my head at the two Tysons. “Take care of them, will ya?”
She smiles. “Will do.”
Everyone piles in and we pull away. Once we get back out onto the main road, I hear my father whistle in delight from the back seat.
“That girl hooked us up nicely.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.
Dad’s smile turns into a mischievous grin. “Oh, yeah…”
I trust my father’s assessment of our “thank yous” and also realize that we now have one of the CPD’s SUVs, a Yukon, at our disposal. These tactical vehicles are as tough as nails and built to run forever.
I flip through the steering wheel’s settings and check the mileage, happy to see that this thing has a long way to go before it dies of “natural causes.”
I turn right onto Riverfront Parkway and then make a left onto Veterans Bridge. The Tennessee River passes ominously beneath us, and I’m thankful that it’s the middle of the night. I don’t want to see what the waterway has to offer right now. All I want is to get as far away from Chattanooga as possible and find a quiet place to sleep for the night.
We still have a little bit to go before we get to Gatlinburg and there’s no sense in rushing in there, guns-a-blazin’. We still have to be smart about what we’re doing. The first thing we all need is some rest, but before that happens, I quickly fill everyone in with what Andy and I went through.
