Instead, he jiggled his right arm, and continued to gaze out at the high-rise canopy of spires and rooftops.
Lucas could hear ice tinkling in a glass tumbler. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning and Carter Wilde was already into the good stuff.
“Why is it, Lucas, when you look down it seems so much farther than when you’re on the street looking up?” Wilde said. He turned around to face Lucas.
His goatee was neatly trimmed and his gray hair was slicked back flat against the crown of his skull. He wore a crisp powder-blue shirt, dark blue tie, and a $43,000 Brioni Vanguish II suit.
“Perception?”
“Exactly.” Wilde stepped out from behind his desk.
“If you like, I have the latest updates.”
“By the look on your face, I’m guessing there are more problems.”
It was difficult not to appear glum when he’d been putting out one fire after another trying to keep the project on track. “Yes, there are issues that need to be addressed.”
“Give me a sec, Lucas, and we’ll go into the War Room.” Wilde went over to his well-stocked wet bar to freshen up his drink.
Lucas gazed about the extravagant suite.
One wall was covered with scores of framed photographs of Carter Wilde chumming it up with various top-ranking foreign dignitaries, famous celebrities and movie stars from all around the world, the wealthy elite, and even a couple of presidents.
In the event of a large business gathering, there were upholstered chairs and sofas situated around the room to seat twenty people for a casual meeting.
Lucas looked over at the indoor putting green and noticed the Louis Vuitton designer golf bag was still in the same spot in the corner of the room from the last time he’d been in Wilde’s office. Inside the canvas bag was a 14-piece set of gold and platinum Honma golf clubs, which cost more than Lucas’ Lexus.
Wilde stepped away from the wet bar and carried his glass across the room. He jabbed a code on a push pad on the wall and a pocket door opened revealing a large conference room—Carter Wilde’s War Room.
Lucas followed his boss into the rectangular room, which had once been used for board meetings, but was now exclusively reserved for the project. Only top managers and department heads currently involved in the project were allowed access and all were contractually bound not to discuss any aspects of what went on within these walls, as Wilde was adamant about keeping his pet project as much a secret as possible.
Wilde switched on the recessed lighting.
A blank drop-down 90-inch flat screen hung from the ceiling in the front of the room.
The earth tone painted walls were covered with conceptual artwork, a detailed timeline outlining the scheduled due dates for each stage of development, along with building blueprints and engineering schematics.
Twelve black leather chairs were set up around one end of the 24-foot long solid walnut table. A row of binders was between two bookends in the center, each report identified by department and giving specific breakdowns of activities performed.
Lucas stepped to the other end of the table and joined Wilde, studying the three displays on the table.
The first miniature model looked like a giant blue beetle and was as long as the width of the conference table. It was the mockup of the theme park with the dome closed.
Lucas’ design and engineering teams insisted the curvature of the solar panel roof would gather the most sun power, as the theme park had to be self-sustained due to its remote location.
Wilde placed his glass on a cork coaster on the table and stared down at the next model, which was the same size as the first one without the roof.
Lucas watched his boss and knew he was envisioning what the real theme park would look like.
The interior layout comprised of six tiny round plastic buildings and four circular habitats, quality crafted in exquisite detail and arranged inside an oval-shaped diorama on green matting. Each piece was labeled on the top for easy identification.
Lucas did his own visual walkthrough and started at the main entrance imagining he was a guest entering the theme park. Two rows of statues in the images of the attractions the visitors would be seeing during their stay flanked a broad pathway that led to the luxurious hotel.
The zookeepers’ workstations and sleeping quarters were in a building left of the hotel. Another circular building was to the right of the hotel; this one reserved for security where the surveillance cameras around the park were to be monitored and the armory was kept under lock and key.
Behind the hotel was an enormous round swimming pool.
To its left, the 900,000-gallon aquarium called the Tank.
On the other side of the circular hotel was the Aviary with aerial space reaching up to the height of the dome’s ceiling and was flush in places to glass-enclosed balconies providing safe viewing for the guests.
The Bioengineering Laboratory and Animatronics Workshop Complex was centered in the middle of the diorama.
Four other exhibits were in a horseshoe shape and occupied the other half of the grounds: Sea Monster Cove, The Reptile House, Mammoth Arena, and Biped Habitat.
Lucas looked at the third model, which showed the underground network of tunnels that would be used by the zookeepers, maintenance employees, security guards, or anyone else that needed to travel about the park, preferably unseen by the guests.
Wilde was insistent all operations be seamless to the general public, especially the livestock that would eventually be kept below ground in pens situated around the park as food for the attractions. No parent wanted his or her child witnessing the brutal slaying of a defenseless animal.
The model also showed the intricate maze of electrical conduits, the sewage system, plumbing, and the utility grids for generating solar electricity.
Lucas put his attaché case on the table. He released the catches, and opened the lid. He took out a folder: the latest progress report.
Wilde picked up his drink. He took a sip and kept staring at the second model. “Okay, Lucas. Let’s hear it.”
Lucas began going down his checklist. “There’s been a repeated malfunction with one of the elevators in the hotel.”
“Go on,” Wilde said. He turned to face Lucas and sat on the edge of the table.
“Our maintenance manager has voiced a concern about the Tank.”
“What kind of concern?” Wilde asked.
“About an apparent problem with the filtration system in the aquarium.”
“Does he know the cause?”
“Not at this time.”
“What else?”
“Park Security has been complaining about computer glitches affecting the surveillance cameras. I sent out our best I.T. person.”
“Anymore breakthroughs at the lab?”
“Yes, both Dr. McCabe and Professor Howard have made incredible progress. I think you will be very pleased. You’ll love what the Workshop has come up with.”
“I look forward to it. So, if we remedy these problems, when do you think everything will be done?”
“We won’t be able to have a firm date until after the inspections.”
“I thought everything was signed off?”
“Well, there’s been a bit of a disruption.”
“What’s the holdup?”
“Federal regulatory authorities. I’m afraid there’s been a leak. The USDA and the Department of Health and Human Services is concerned we’re violating the Animal Welfare Act.”
Wilde slammed his glass down, spilling his malt scotch on the table. “How can they say that when we’re bioengineering and cloning creatures that haven’t even existed until now?”
“That’s why they’re stalling. I’d hate to see it get to the Supreme Court.”
“I’ll make sure that never happens,” Wilde said.
“The last thing you want is a bunch of angry animal activists picketing the main gate on Opening Day,” Lucas said, knowing how his boss hated negati
ve publicity.
“Then I think it’s time we sent in the marketing and advertising teams,” Wilde said. “Let them experience the park for themselves. Create such a buzz no one’s going to care about those ranting sign-waving lunatics.”
“Don’t you think we should correct the existing problems first?”
“Nonsense,” Wilde said. “Now is the time to prepare our ad campaign.”
“Shouldn’t our first priority be public safety?”
“Lucas, don’t you think every person knows there’s a certain amount of risk every time they go to an amusement park?”
“Honestly, no. We just assume everything will be fine.”
“Get the ball rolling.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucas said. He dropped the progress report inside his attaché case and closed it in preparation to leave.
“I want this to be a family experience,” Wilde said, ushering Lucas out of the War Room.
“I’ll draft an email.”
“Tell them to be packed and ready for a redeye tonight.”
Lucas turned and looked at his boss. “Sir, don’t you think that’s a little short notice. I mean—”
“Have Katherine arrange to have the company’s 737 fueled and waiting at the Jet Center,” Wilde said, turning his attention to the view outside and ending their meeting.
Cryptid Zoo is available from Amazon here!
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I would like to thank Gary Lucas and the wonderful people working with Severed Press that helped with this book. Special thanks as always to Nichola Meaburn for her keen eye. It’s truly amazing how folks we may never meet and who live in the most incredible places in the world can truly enrich our lives. And I would especially like to thank my daughter and faithful beta reader, Genene Griffiths Ortiz, for making this so much fun and sharing these bizarre and incredible journeys.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gerry Griffiths lives in San Jose, California, with his family and their five rescue dogs and a cat. He is a Horror Writers Association member and has over thirty published short stories in various anthologies and magazines, as well as a short story collection entitled Creatures. He is also the author of Silurid, The Beasts of Stoneclad Mountain, Down From Beast Mountain, Terror Mountain, Cryptid Island (the prequel to Cryptid Zoo) and Cryptid Zoo as well as Death Crawlers and the follow-up standalone novels, Deep in the Jungle, The Next World, and Battleground Earth, all published by Severed Press.
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