baby sloth
I say goodbye to the penguins and continue on my way. So much has simply vanished. Walls. Fences. Barriers. Netting.
The orderly world of the park, with its careful lines defining territory, isn’t so defined anymore. Many of the habitats are still entirely intact. But not all.
What will this place be without fences and walls? You didn’t need to watch the nature channel to know that certain animals like to eat certain other animals.
I pass two squirrel monkeys swinging happily from the children’s carousel. A pelican watches from her perch on a popcorn stand.
I see a camel and a zebra together, looking stunned to be standing side by side.
I notice a red lemur, Merlin, on a picnic table. Lemur eyes are always big, if you ask me. But Merlin’s eyes look like they’re about to pop right out of his head.
I make my way through splintered wood and glass shards and approach the gift shop. It’s roofless. Stuffed toy animals are scattered here and there like they tried to make a break for it. An I LOVE KOALAS T-shirt dangles from a tree branch.
Around a corner I see a baby sloth—Sylvia, I think her name is. She’s resting on a muddy plush giraffe.
“Hey, there,” I say.
She makes a tiny noise. A sloth sob, I guess it is.
“Let’s find your mom and dad.” I’m not one for hugging and licking and such, but I give her a little nudge with my nose.
Sylvia somehow manages to grab the giraffe, then looks up at me like she expects to hitch a ride.
How the heck do you pick up a baby sloth? It’s not exactly part of my job description. And sloths are so . . . you know, slothy.
Carefully, I pick her up by her scruff, the way you do with a puppy. She puts that silly toy in her mouth, and off we go.
Takes a few minutes, but I find her mom, Selma. I deposit Sylvia on a patch of wet grass.
“How can I thank you?” Selma cries.
“No biggie,” I say, and I head on, with fear in my belly and the odd taste of sloth fur in my mouth.
make no sudden moves
I’ve ridden around the grounds of the park in Julia’s backpack enough to know every inch of the place. I’ve even chatted with many of the residents. But now everything is topsy-turvy. I keep finding myself in places I don’t want to be.
Like the wolf exhibit.
Near the entrance, a sign lies crushed on the ground. It has a picture of a gray wolf with an arrow pointing one way, and another arrow with an emperor penguin on it.
To my right I see a piece of hay, stuck deep in a tree trunk like a pencil in a cupcake.
To my left, water gushes from a pathside ditch. A broken pipe.
The boiling sky has settled into a solid blanket of gray, and the rain’s quieted to a steady drizzle. Still, I smell more bad weather menacing in the distance.
Tossed into a bush is a large informational display with a photo of two gray wolves. I don’t see any fence or barrier or intact wall. And it dawns on me that grumpy wolves and tiny dogs might not make the best of pals, especially under these trying circumstances.
Just as I start to leave, a wolf on the sign seems to move. To blink.
Oh.
He isn’t part of the sign. He’s next to the sign.
It’s Kimu.
“Hey,” I say.
No answer.
Something tells me I should hightail it outa there. Something else is saying, Make no sudden moves.
I hate it when my brain disagrees with itself.
I split the difference, crouching meekly. Doing the whole submissive dog thing.
Kimu locks his gaze on me. I try not to make direct eye contact. Lotta animals find that threatening. But his eyes are mesmerizing. Glowing amber and way too smart.
He moves again.
Two paws appear.
Big paws. Nothing like my feeble, shrimpy feet.
These paws are the size of hamburger buns.
Hamburger buns with lethal claws attached.
mutt versus wolf
I wait for him to launch into his pounce. Maybe if I time my escape just right?
Yeah, sure. In a battle of Chihuahua mutt versus wolf, even I wouldn’t bet on the dog.
Do they break your neck before they eat you? That only seems fair.
My heart’s doing this crazy tap dance in my chest, and I wonder if he can hear it. I sneak a peek at him. Strangely, he just keeps staring at me.
Quickly I avert my gaze. Those eyes. Those chilling, dangerous eyes.
“It’s me. Bob,” I say.
Kimu says nothing. He’s panting hard. Maybe he’s disoriented, even hurt?
I try to speak again. My voice seems to be hiding somewhere deep in my throat.
Another try. “Um . . . Kimu?”
He blinks.
“Are you all right?”
No response.
“Anyone else hurt?” I ask.
This time he seems to hear me. “I don’t know.” His voice is a low whisper.
“Can I help?” I ask, really hoping the answer is no.
“Suzu. I can’t find her.”
“All right, then,” I say. “I’ll, uh . . . I’ll take a look.”
I poke around a bit, careful not to get too close to Kimu. A sour smell pours off him like sweat off a human.
“I don’t . . . I don’t see her,” I say after a few minutes. “But I’m sure she’s fine. Just a little shook up, probably. Hiding somewhere.”
He doesn’t answer.
“I should go. I’m, um, looking for some friends,” I say. “Is there anything else I can do?”
He looks up at the ominous sky as if there’s an answer waiting there.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
gorilla world
I move on. I have to find my friends. Have to. But where am I?
I leap over another mangled signpost with bent arrows. One way to Reptileville. One way to Lion Land.
I pass the Mangrove Swamp. A manatee pokes up her big head, draped with Spanish moss like a silly wig.
Two workers in yellow raincoats trot past me. One has a bloody bandage on his cheek.
I need to stop. Regroup. Cool it, Bob, I tell myself. I’m panicking, not taking in the right data. I try to blot out all the horrible smells, all the awful noise.
I concentrate, let my nose do the real work.
A whiff of something familiar. Gorilla? It has to be gorilla.
Full run now. I cut my back left paw on a shard of glass. Trip. Fall hard on my nose and cut it, too.
Dripping blood, I carry on. Find them. Find them. Find them.
A massive old oak lies on its side at the entrance to Gorilla World. Huge tangled roots grope into the air like frozen snakes.
And just beyond, where Ivan lives, is nothing but devastation.
help us!
The stone wall separating Gorilla World and Elephant Odyssey is gone. Pieces of both domains mingle: an elephant toy here, a gorilla nest there. Part of the indoor gorilla space has crumbled to the ground.
I scan the area where Ruby and her herd like to hang out. Nothing.
No gorillas, either.
Out of nowhere, the rain picks up, coming sideways, blinding me. The wind howls like a hurt dog.
This storm isn’t over, not by a long shot.
I leap over a pile of cement blocks, catch my hurt foot on something sharp, yelp, keep going.
“Ivan!” I call. “Ruby!”
Nothing.
I get to a slight rise, leap onto another overturned tree, and try to make sense of the damage.
Red and blue lights cut through the rain. Police, fire engines. Good. We need all the help we can get.
I take in several lungfuls of the hideous air. It’s too wet, too full of conflicting odors, a mishmash of scents I can’t decipher, especially with my busted nose.
The wind gathers speed, pushing at me with incredible force. Feels like it�
��ll tear my ears right off my sore noggin. I can barely stay upright.
Wind like that, storm wind, doesn’t carry scent. It obliterates it.
“Help! Help us!”
It’s a tiny, desperate voice.
Maybe even Ruby’s voice.
kudzoo
I pick my way through the debris, trying to lock on the sound. It ain’t easy.
“Please help us!”
Climbing over the remains of the wall, the one I was sitting on what seems like moments ago, I find myself at the bank of the moat.
“Ruby?” I call at the top of my lungs.
“Uncle Bob!” The sound of my name cuts through the gloom like a shaft of sun. Ruby runs to the opposite edge of the water. She’s maybe eight feet away, but I can barely make her out in the torrential rain.
“You stay there,” I yell, trying to be heard over the wind. “I’ll come to you.”
I follow the bank until I come to a spot where several chunks of wall have tumbled into the water. Three careful leaps and I’m across.
Ruby runs to greet me. She wraps her mud-coated trunk around my neck, and boy oh boy, am I happy to see that sweet little elephant.
“You hurt, Ruby?” I ask. “Is everyone all right?”
Ruby sniffles. “Yes, but—come quick.” She dashes off before I can ask anything more.
Five of Ruby’s aunts stand by the elephant side of the moat. Each one has her trunk plunged deep in the dark, muddy water. They look like a bunch of kids trying to find a lost toy in a swimming pool.
It’s almost funny. Until I see what they’re reaching for.
A baby gorilla is in the moat.
The tiny gal keeps grabbing for a trunk to hold on to, then slipping free. Her terrified screeches fill the air.
It’s Kudzoo. Ivan’s favorite.
an idea
“I’m going in,” says Masika, one of the younger aunts.
“Might make things worse,” Akello cautions. “Displace the mud, pull her down toward the bottom.”
“I could go in,” I suggest, the words popping out before I can swallow them.
“It’s more mud than water, Bob.” Akello shakes her head. “You’ll get as stuck as Kudzoo.”
I don’t exactly argue the point.
“I’ve got an idea,” comes a small voice.
All the aunties turn to Ruby, and she looks startled to have their complete attention.
“A couple of us get on the other side of the moat,” Ruby says. “Grab trunks. We’ll make like a, whaddya call it—”
“A sling!” I exclaim. “A hammock, like the gorillas have.”
“I don’t know, Ruby.” Akello sounds doubtful.
Kudzoo grabs for Masika’s trunk with both hands. “Wait,” Masika says. “Think I’ve got her this time.”
Masika lifts her trunk with deliberate slowness, carefully trying to support the baby gorilla, but once again, Kudzoo can’t hold on. She lets out a despairing cry.
Down she goes, lower this time, her nose and eyes just visible.
“Okay,” Akello says, with a nod at Ruby. “Let’s give Ruby’s idea a try. Masika, Laheli, Elodie, cross over to the far side. Zaina, Ruby, and I will take this side.
All three elephants move with surprising quickness to the spot where I crossed. They gallop back until they’re facing us.
It’s strange to see them on the other side of the moat. With the wall destroyed, they’re technically in Ivan and Kinyani’s domain.
“Move down a bit,” Akello instructs. “That way.” She motions with her head. “We want to scoop her out, not push her down.”
Three on one side, three on the other, the elephants reach out for each other’s trunks, creating a kind of cradle.
“Okay, now,” says Akello, “lower carefully!”
Down they go into the muddy water. Ruby nearly loses her footing, so I grab her tail with my teeth.
It doesn’t really help, and she yelps, “Ouch!” but my heart’s in the right place.
Kudzoo thrashes her tiny arms. “Stay calm,” I call. Easy for me to say.
She looks over at me, and I’ll never forget the fear in her dark eyes.
Then she vanishes below the surface.
team elephant
“Hurry!” Ruby cries.
The elephants bend lower, moving like a giant elephant shovel.
“Where is she?” Masika asks.
“Lower,” says Akello. “Lower, sisters!”
“There!” Ruby yells. “No . . . wait! There!”
“Up!” Akello commands, and the interlocked trunks rise from the muddy water to reveal a tiny, trembling baby gorilla, sitting in their makeshift sling.
“Kudzoo,” says Akello, “stay calm, baby. We’re gonna toss you to safety, okay?”
Kudzoo gives a little nod.
“On my count,” says Akello, “start swinging. One, two, three!”
Up and over go the trunks, and up and over goes Kudzoo. She lands with a little plop on the gorilla side of the moat, right next to Masika’s rear legs.
“Good work, everyone!” says Akello. “And good thinking, Ruby!”
“Th-thanks, elephants!” says Kudzoo, wiping mud from her eyes. “That was fun. Can we do it again?”
Akello takes a deep breath. “Maybe later, sweetheart.”
Quickly I make my way back over the moat. “Kudzoo,” I say, “follow me. Let’s go find your ape peeps.”
“Can I go with Bob?” Ruby asks Akello.
Akello touches Ruby’s back with her trunk. “I’d much rather have you stay here, dear. And it’s ‘may I.’”
“But Uncle Ivan!” Ruby pleads.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I tell Akello.
“I’m going,” Ruby says in her most determined voice. “Maybe I can help. I helped just now.”
Akello hesitates but finally gives a slow nod. Probably she figures there’s no arguing with Ruby.
She’s right on that one.
Ruby crosses the moat and joins Kudzoo and me. “Be careful,” Akello warns. “There’s more of this storm coming.”
“I got her, Akello,” I say.
“You’d better have her,” she warns.
“I think I flew, Bob,” says Kudzoo as we weave our way through the wasteland that was Gorilla World.
“Yeah, me too,” I say. “It’s that kinda day.”
what’s out there
A handful of humans—firefighters and police, mostly—have begun to roam the grounds, checking out the damage. We pass a park employee with a weapon slung over his shoulder and a net in one hand.
“Tranq gun,” he tells a passing police officer. “We don’t know what’s out there.”
She nods. “How fast do they work?”
“On something like a big cat?” He shakes his head. “Not fast enough.”
I look over at Ruby. “Stay close, kid.”
As we near the gorilla villa—what’s left of it, anyways—a screech hits my ears that makes the wailing police sirens sound like mewling kittens.
It’s Kinyani.
She’s frantically knuckle running back and forth near the collapsed gorilla villa. Chunks of cement, shredded wooden beams, and bent metal lie everywhere. A cluster of gorilla females and juveniles huddle not far from some rescue workers.
“There’s Mama!” Kudzoo cries, dashing toward a gorilla named Jodi.
I’m so horrified by the destruction that I’ve almost forgotten my muddy little charge.
I really shouldn’t be trusted as an ape-sitter.
Kudzoo darts over to her mother’s waiting embrace. Jodi nuzzles her and strokes her and says soothing, motherly gorilla things. “Thank you,” Jodi mouths to me.
“Don’t thank me,” I say, looking over at Ruby. “Thank this little gal. She figured out how to save Kudzoo.”
“Thank you—Ruby, isn’t it? Ivan’s friend?”
Ruby gives a shy nod. “We all helped.”
“I provided moral supp
ort,” I add.
“I flew, Mama,” says Kudzoo.
“Of course you did, dear,” says Jodi.
Kinyani’s fresh wails focus my mind. “I gotta go,” I say. “Ruby, you should stay here.” I’m going for a no-nonsense voice, the one Julia uses on me when she calls me “Robert.” “Lemme see what’s what. I’ll be right back.”
“No way, Uncle Bob,” Ruby replies, just as firmly.
I give up. But I’m afraid of what she might see. Of what we both might see.
“Any sign of Ivan?” I ask Jodi.
She shakes her head, a grim look clouding her eyes.
With Ruby by my side, we approach the pile of wreckage that used to be the gorilla villa.
At the same moment, Ruby and I gasp.
There’s Ivan’s hand, barely peeking through the rubble.
not moving
I know that hand like the back of my own paw.
“No!” Ruby screams. “Uncle Ivan!”
I check the crowd. No sign of Julia or George. Nothing. No Maya, either, or other keepers I recognize. Just a few employees, several rescue workers, and two or three dazed-looking visitors.
“Is he alive?” a firefighter asks.
“Hand—whatever it’s called—isn’t moving,” says another.
Weaving my way through the tangle of legs, I climb up the rubble pile, sniff a bit, and bark my loudest Yes, he’s alive, get your rears in gear bark.
Just like those overachieving rescue dogs in the Man’s Best Friend show.
I listen for a sound from Ivan, a grunt, a cry for help. Nothing.
Still, he smells alive.
At least I think he does. And that’s good enough for me.
xena
Another dog races over, a tough-looking German shepherd wearing an impressive glow-in-the-dark vest and some bootie things to protect her feet from the rubble, but I hold my ground.
This is my friend we’re talking about.
I lick Ivan’s hand. His fingers twitch.
Well, that’s all it takes to get both of us barking like maniacs.
The One and Only Bob Page 6
