by Chris Pike
Joe opened the door to the aviary then carefully shut it behind him and Hannah. It was dark, and it took a while for their eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Joe’s flashlight Joe began to flicker. He clicked off then back on, then it flickered once more before it went dark.
“Great,” Joe muttered.
Hannah swung her pack around, unzipped it, and retrieved a flashlight. “Here, this might come in handy.”
“Thanks,” Joe said, cautiously flicking it on. “It works. Got anything else useful in there?”
“Only some of my stuff.”
“Like what?” Joe asked. He lowered the flashlight beam onto Hannah’s pack.
“None of your business.” Struggling with the heavy pack, Hannah covered the opening with one hand while she zipped it up using her other.
“What’s in there? An anvil?”
“Funny.”
“I thought so.” Joe snickered. His tone quickly turned serious. “Stay behind me.”
Joe and Hannah inched their way through the deserted aviary, watching for any unusual movement or eyes glowing in the flashlight beam. They walked past aisles of books and trinkets, bird seed, stuffed animals, coffee mugs, and sundry items tourists could spend their money on. At the back of the aviary, Joe spied a door.
“Is this it?” Joe asked.
“Yes.”
He opened the door to find a room with a round table with four chairs, one long cabinet, one file cabinet, and a looted drink machine. The long cabinet, standing around six feet tall, must be the prize he was after. It was locked. Using the flashlight, he did a 360 of the room, searching for a tool he could use to pry the door open. To the side of the four-drawer filing cabinet, Joe found a wooden utility cart. On the lower shelf was a hammer.
“This is going to make noise,” Joe said. “Stay by the door and let me know if you hear anything unusual.”
“Will do,” Hannah replied.
Using the hammer, Joe pried open the larger of the filing cabinets. He let out a satisfied sigh at the sight of the rifle. It had obviously, and ironically, belonged to an African safari hunter about fifty years ago. Judging from the lack of commercial markings, it was once a high-end European custom rifle using the solid Mauser action seated in the finest hardwood available. This very rifle had probably taken elephant, rhino, lion, and cape buffalo in its heyday. In all likelihood, the owner had passed and his wife had donated the rifle to the zoo. Joe wondered if she knew that such a rifle would have brought five figures on the used gun market.
A stock reinforcement bolt helped to keep the heavy recoiling action tight in the beautifully grained walnut stock. Joe noticed the once sharp wood checkering had been worn smooth from years of handling. The once pliable recoil pad was now hard and crystalized from age.
Hannah moved the flashlight’s beam and Joe understood the late hunter’s wife may not have made such a mistake in giving the rifle away after all. The additional light showed discoloration of the stock’s forearm from handling the rifle with greasy hands and not cleaning it properly. There was also the reddish orange powdery flaking of rust where the outside of the barrel met the wooden forearm. A look down the barrel using the flashlight on the other end showed a darkened barrel and rifling, clear evidence of damage from corrosive ammunition and lax cleaning discipline. Such a rifle could not be trusted to hit a target much beyond fifty yards.
Concerned about the reliability of the gun, Joe worked the bolt, checking the safety’s function, then dry fired the once top-of-the-line elephant gun. Despite the poor maintenance record, Joe was convinced the rifle would function properly. He wouldn’t mind taking this baby to the shooting range, although any safari fantasies he had about the rifle would have to wait. Satisfied with the mechanical function, he inserted some .375 H&H solids, chambered a round, then pocketed two boxes of ammo. He held up a third box of ammo. “Can you carry this?”
“Bullets? Really?”
“Tiddlywinks won’t protect us from what’s outside. Bullets will.”
“Give it to me.” Hannah roughly took the box from Joe and stuffed the heavy box into an outer pocket of her fanny pack. “I still don’t know what you’re worried about.”
“While you’ve been holed up in the van, society has derailed. You’re lucky not to have been eaten alive.”
“I told you,” Hannah protested, “the animals are my friends.” She wanted to let Joe know about how hurt she had been and how she had witnessed the depravity some humans were capable of. She kept her real thoughts to herself, hoping time and distance would solve the problem. Instead, she blurted, “I hate people. And, yes, animals are my friends.”
“That’s BS and you know it.” Joe approached Hannah and invaded her personal space. He towered over the slender woman which reminded him of a gazelle. “What do you plan to do when you’re face to face with a lion?”
“I don’t know. Talk nicely to it?” Hannah’s voice inflection rose, unsure if the choices she had made were wise or not.
“I’d like to see you try that.” Joe huffed his displeasure. “Let’s go get the antibiotics then we’ll go our separate ways.”
“Have you already forgotten about the petting zoo?”
“Alright. You lead me to where the antibiotics are kept, then I’ll escort you to the petting zoo.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said with great mirth.
Joe cast a suspicious glance at Hannah. “You’re still holding something back, aren’t you?
“No, I’m not.” Hannah felt Joe’s eyes bore into her.
“I can smell BS a mile away so tell me what it is.”
“I am what you see,” Hannah said.
In fact, Hannah was holding something back, something she had overheard when very few people were left at the zoo one day. It was after closing time, and she had been rummaging around in a conference room where she didn’t have the clearance to be when several people walked in. If she had been caught, she would have been fired on the spot. She hid and didn’t make a sound for two hours. She listened to a group of several men and one woman discussing a plot so horrific she thought they were Hollywood screenwriters. At the time she mused that was the only logical explanation of what they were doing. She thought she recognized a couple of the voices, but without seeing their faces, she couldn’t be sure. Yet it was common for high-powered people to use the zoo as a meeting place since it was easy for them to disappear and not be hounded by the press.
Hannah had filed away the event until she had met Joe, because if what he had said was true, then she had overheard the people responsible. Too scared to admit the revelation to Joe, or to anyone else, she kept quiet.
“There’s more to you Hannah Hammer, and I’m going to find out what it is.”
Chapter 22
As promised, Hannah led Joe to where the veterinary medicines were kept. The building housing the veterinary clinic had all the latest bells and whistles, including an MRI and an ultrasound machine. Surgical supplies, swabs, sheets, antiseptic, and gauzes of all types were neatly categorized on shelves, and the smell of the clinic reminded Joe of the animal clinic where he used to take his dog. Cabinets were labeled according to the specific needs of animals. The glass cabinet holding the antibiotics and controlled substances was locked. Using the hammer he procured earlier, he broke the glass, shattering it and sending shards of glass in all directions.
Staying focused, he read the labels on the medicine bottles, decided what he needed, and tossed a plethora of bottles in a plastic bag.
“I found what I needed,” Joe said. “Time to feed the baby animals. And don’t talk until we get there. The less noise we make, the better off we’ll be.”
The entire foray to locate a firearm and the necessary meds had taken twenty minutes. In the big scheme of the number of minutes in a day, twenty minutes amounted to a little over one percent of the day. It wasn’t a significant percentage, yet it allowed ample time for the sun to slip beneath the horizon, and when the sun went down, th
e predators came out.
Stepping out into the main part of the zoo, Joe hesitated. His sixth sense told him to say the heck with the baby animals, save himself, and tell Hannah to beat it. Unfortunately or fortunately, depending on the perspective, Joe was a stand-up kind of guy. He always kept his word, and his word dictated him to escort Hannah to the petting zoo. When he was done with helping Hannah, it was adios, and back to Lexi.
They quickened their pace, keeping as silent as possible.
The elephant exhibit was dark and barren, smelling of fresh elephant dung. In fact, the entire zoo smelled of elephant dung. The location of the elephants worried Joe because if they became spooked, even a months old elephant could trample a person. Lions would prey on elephants given the chance, so at this point, anything could go wrong.
Joe and Hannah’s quick pace allowed them to reach the petting zoo in ten minutes. So far so good, and Joe breathed a sigh of relief.
The area was cordoned off by a flimsy wooden fence, only high enough so the baby animals couldn’t escape, and low enough for a four-year old to peek over it.
To conserve the flashlight battery and keep their eyes accustomed to the dark, they had walked with it off.
Joe opened the gate and stepped into the area covered with hay.
“I wonder where the baby animals are?” Hannah asked. “They normally greet me.” She shut the gate behind them.
The rustling of hay caught their attention.
Joe raised the rifle.
Hannah flicked on the flashlight.
“Come here, baby. Are you hungry?” A baby lamb tentatively emerged from the pen area where the animals slept at night. Hannah offered her hand for the lamb to sniff. “Where are all your friends?” She rubbed behind the lamb’s ears and stroked the little guy along its back.
The lamb bleated its approval, then joyfully skipped to the side of the pen, and—
A lioness sprang over the fence, and before Hannah or Joe had time to react, draw a weapon, run, or scream, the lioness snatched the baby lamb, clamping down on the hapless animal in one swift, lethal bite.
With the lamb dangling limply from its mouth, the lioness casually sauntered to a corner of the pen where it placed the lamb on the ground. Using its massive tongue, the lioness licked the lamb, paying no attention to Joe or Hannah.
Breathing shallow, Joe whispered to Hannah, “Don’t move.”
Trembling, Hannah was as pale as a sheet of copy paper.
Joe raised his rifle and sighted the lioness for the kill. He moved his index finger on the trigger.
“Don’t,” Hannah hissed. “The female has cubs.” She pointed to the hundred-year old oak near the perimeter of the pen.
From the shadows, two cubs hesitantly emerged, squeezing under the last rung of the fence. They eyed Hannah and Joe then joined their mother in the meal, settling next to her. The lioness licked her paws, making room for her two cubs.
“Let’s back out of here as slowly and as quietly as possible,” Joe said. “Then we’ll—”
A massive male lion broke through the flimsy wooden fence. Its size dwarfed Joe’s six foot frame, making him appear weak and insignificant. Its head was larger than Joe’s chest.
The cubs scurried for cover next to their mother who growled and showed her teeth. She had crouched low, submissive to the intimidating male.
The lion made a lightning fast move towards the female and her cubs then skidded to an abrupt stop. It swung its head around and locked eyes on Hannah and Joe.
In the amount of time it took for Joe to register what had happened, he brought up his rifle, sighted the lion, and pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
The rifle had jammed! Without any time to unjam the rifle, Joe decided his only option was to use it as a club.
The male lion took one quick step towards Joe.
Joe prepared himself. “Run, Hannah! Ruuun!”
The lion leapt with its front legs stretched out, claws ready to slice and maim.
The blast from behind Joe stunned him for a second as he tried to comprehend its meaning. The shock value was enough to cause him to close his eyes and duck.
Another blast rang out.
In the next second it took Joe to come to his senses, the massive lion had crumpled to the ground and the female had hurried away, carrying the lamb carcass in her mouth, the cubs close on her heels.
He jerked around to where Hannah last stood.
Still as white as paper, she held a huge revolver in her trembling hand. The stainless steel Smith and Wesson .500 Magnum was as long as her forearm.
“My God,” he whispered, catching his breath. “You saved my life.” Joe’s gaze dropped to the revolver. “Where did you get that?”
Holding the revolver in a death grip, Hannah said, “It was in my fanny pack.”
“You never told me.”
“You never asked if I had a gun.”
Joe threw his hands up in exasperation. “You’re an animal activist, a don’t shoot Bambi kind of person who doesn’t believe in firearms.”
Hannah lowered the weapon. “I know my limits, and having you ripped apart by the lion was way above my threshold.”
“Is the gun yours?”
“It belonged to my no-good boyfriend. Before he left for dinner on the night all this happened, he lent it to me for protection.”
“Good thing he did.” By now, Joe had recovered from his adrenaline dump. “Let’s get outta here. First I’ll need to unjam the rifle.”
A few seconds later, Joe found the problem. He closely examined the dud round and found corrosion on the brass next to the primer. Further examination of the box it came from showed a clear water line where the corrosive primed ammunition had once been submerged in water. Joe kicked himself for not examining the ammunition when he checked the rifle.
“I feel like such an idiot.”
Hannah smirked. “You’re welcome.”
“What?” Joe asked.
She raised her brow.
“What?” Joe repeated, giving her a confused look. “Oh, right. Thanks, you saved my life. I owe you one.” Joe examined the other two ammo boxes, finding that one of them contained safari grade solids loaded in nickel-plated cases for absolute reliable function. No water damage at all. He reloaded the rifle and pocketed the balance of the box. He considered throwing away the other brass cased ammo, but reconsidered due to the difficulty in finding safari ammunition and the possibility that some of the rounds were still good.
“Hey, do you mind if I tag along with you?” Hannah said with all the sugar and spice she could muster.
“You’ve got to be kidding. You want to go back to the hellhole of what’s left of the stadium?”
“I have nothing to keep me here. The animals are no longer penned, and the baby animals in the petting zoo are all dead. I have nowhere to go.” Hannah glanced down and hiccupped. “I saved your life, the least you can do is let me tag along.”
Against his better judgement, Joe agreed. “Alright, but under one condition.”
“Go on.”
“No more feeding baby animals.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 23
Joe and Hannah began the arduous trek back to the stadium. Night came early on the February day, and without streetlamps, a full moon, or other light pollution, the night was darker than usual. The clouds had disappeared, giving way to the stars shining in the heavens. The brilliance of the billions of stars in the Milky Way glowed in the sky.
“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” Hannah said, facing skyward.
“What is? I don’t see anything,” Joe replied.
“Look up. It’s beautiful.”
Joe briefly glanced at the sky. “I suppose so.”
“Why don’t you take the time to enjoy this.”
“Lady, I don’t have time to lollygag. My friend’s life depends on me getting the medicine to her. Time’s a wastin’, so let’s pick up the pace.”
“She’s got an infected abscessed tooth, plus a fever. If the infection isn’t stopped, it could get worse, lead to more infections and even go to her brain.”
“It makes sense why you needed the antibiotics, but the tooth will need to be extracted.”
Joe nodded. “I’ve wondered about that.”
“If she could get to a dentist, a root canal could be performed to save the tooth, otherwise the tooth will have to come out.”
“Probably.”
“How do you plan on doing that?” Hannah asked. “Especially without anesthesia.”
Joe didn’t reply because the answer was horrifying. Pulling a molar would have to be done like in the old days. Images of men holding down the patient while the barber or blacksmith pulled the tooth came to him. Fortunately, video hadn’t been invented then, otherwise the recorded screams would have been bloodcurdling.
Once Joe and Hannah were out of the zoo area, Joe decided to take another route to the stadium, namely walking southwest along Brays Bayou until they reached Main Street. With any luck, they’d come across the Salinas men, then be on their way. Accustomed to a city with a healthy night life, the quiet and dark night unnerved Joe.
Hannah glanced back every few seconds or so.
“Expecting someone?” Joe asked.
“No,” Hannah answered in a petulant tone.
“Could’ve fooled me. You’ve been acting nervous ever since we left the zoo.”
“It pays to be careful around humans.”
“It pays to be careful around animals, too.”
Hannah shrugged.
“Let’s follow the bayou,” Joe suggested. “We won’t be making any noise walking on the grass.”
Unlike tree-lined Buffalo Bayou, left in its woodland natural habitat where armadillos, possums, birds, racoons, and snakes called home, Brays Bayou had been concreted in, and trees and brush had been removed. It was more like a barren canal snaking through the city. Sidewalks for walking or biking were on each side of the bayou.
Sensing Hannah was still nervous, Joe decided to engage her in conversation. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what you did besides being an animal activist.”