Zoo

by Tara Elizabeth

  As I take a bite, I can’t help but think of Chao’s dead body lying on the porch of that cabin. I also wonder what happened to Phyllis. I hope she made it to somewhere safe.

  Sleeping arrangements prove to be awkward and precarious. We have no shelter or weapons other than the bow and a few sticks Kale picked up to use as arrows, so we stay close together. Victoria lies next to the base of a tree, curled into a little ball. I lie next to her and James is next to me.

  The only guy that’s ever slept next to me is Kale, and it was totally not in a romantic context. Even though this is not a romantic setting, it feels different with James so close to me. I can sense the heat coming off of his still body. We haven’t touched since our brief kiss, and I’m already putting pressure on myself to meet some unspoken expectations I’ve convinced myself that he has. The way he embraced me and tried to kiss me makes me think he’s very experienced with women.

  Dilemma . . . I want to get to know him better, but it’s not like we can go on an actual date or anything. I don’t know where to go from here.

  James’ hand slides over to touch mine as we lay side-by-side, gazing up into the trees. I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking. A few feet from where we lie, Kale is sitting with his back to us. He refuses to acknowledge James’ presence since their disagreement. The muscles in his back are still firm with anger, as is his jaw.

  What could’ve started such a violent argument?

  ***

  “Umpf,” James moans.

  I roll over to face him and see Kale standing above us. Kale shoves James with his bare foot again. “Your turn to keep watch. Get up.”

  James slowly sits up and wipes the sleep from his eyes. He takes the bow and arrow from Kale after climbing to his feet. Then he sits in Kale’s lonely place to keep watch over us while we sleep a little longer.

  I feel Kale’s warm breath on my neck as he slides down next to me. He doesn’t touch me, but I find myself wanting that nearness that we shared the night after our punishment. I didn’t know that I missed it until now. I almost scoot closer, but stop myself when I realize James is only a few feet from us.

  The pull towards him is difficult to fight though, like a caterpillar fighting the embrace of its cocoon. But his warmth is enough to quickly ease me back into a heavy sleep.

  Then the screaming starts.

  A NEW DAY, A NEW DAWN

  We all startle awake—this includes James, who fell asleep on his watch. We stand in a circle with our backs facing in, each of us looking for the source of the horror-filled screams. James has the bow ready to fire. He whips it around, searching to place his aim.

  “What’s happening?” Victoria cries. She drops to the ground at our feet and tucks her knees into the skirt of her dress. She’s crying and covering her ears. I nearly trip over her.

  “Get up.” I knock her with my heel.

  The screams are distant, but getting closer. They are distinctly female and littered with curses. They’re approaching from our left, but something else is approaching from the right. It’s like the sound you would expect to hear from a large fan or an air conditioner. The trees start to shake. They rustle and drop pine needles on our heads, like rain showering down from the clouds. Then it stops. We look up and wait.

  The sounds approach again, and then quickly fade away. They’re circling us as they search for the screaming woman. I realize we are stuck right in the middle of a collision course. “We have to get up in the tree! Now!” I shout to my companions.

  “It’s too high. We can’t even reach the first limb,” Kale points out the obvious.

  I spin around, looking for something to help us. My belt! “We can use the cord. Hurry!”

  Kale is the strongest, so he stays on the ground to hoist each of us up. He launches the rope over a thick branch and quickly pulls Victoria up to safety. I go next. James is impatient and climbs—better than I would imagine in cowboy boots—up the tree, while Kale is doing all the hard work. There’s no time for Kale to get up the tree. I’m surprised the three of us made it in time.

  Kale throws himself into a nearby bush as a person bursts into view. His hiding spot is sparsely covered in tiny green leaves the size of quarters. They barely cover the bush, much less Kale. I can clearly see that there’s a person hiding in there, which has me worried for his safety.

  Victoria elbows me in the side, so that I will look down. A shabby woman stealthily weaves through the trees toward us, but she’s quickly slowing down. She stops under the very tree we are hiding in and bends over. She’s panting. I can’t tell where she originally came from by her clothes, because they are too tattered. But we know she speaks English with a thick accent of some kind—Australian, maybe.

  Now she hears the sound of forced air in the direction she was headed. She whips her head around as two Keepers on foot walk up behind her. The woman doesn’t have it in her to run anymore, as a small flying machine approaches. It quiets down as it hovers in place, waiting for her submission. The machine looks like a motorcycle with no wheels, and on its back, it carries a Keeper. The ragged woman falls to her knees defeated, as the Keepers on foot approach her.

  She spits at their feet and says, “Damn you! Damn you all!” She’s trying to be strong and emotionless, but her fear makes its way up her throat. She lets out a heartbreaking whimper. To make up for it, she adds, “I would do it again. Anything for a chance out of here.”

  One of the Keepers on foot raises a gun and says, “Well, now you’ve gotten your wish. You’ll be back dying in whatever hole we found you in. Won’t be long now. Oh and you’re welcome.” The cruelty drips from his tongue like venom.

  The other Keeper laughs at his co-worker’s cruel joke. Then the Keeper with the gun aims for the woman’s throat and pulls the trigger. It only takes a second or two for the woman to fall over. She lies gracefully on the ground with her hair haloed around her head, and her lifeless eyes stare straight up at us.

  My eyes immediately shift to Kale, who is still hidden within the scraggly bush. The Keepers thankfully haven’t noticed him.

  I look back toward the horrible scene as a net falls from the flying motorcycle thing. The two Keepers on foot toss the woman’s limp body in the net. They fasten it tight. “Stupid woman,” one of them says. “They should all know better by now. But it is fun sending them back. The look on their faces when they wake up is priceless.”

  The Keeper on the flying thing says, “Yeah. That pirate last week was a real hoot. Put up a good chase. Well, guess I’ll see you two back at the office so we can get her ready for disposal.” The vehicle lifts a few feet higher in the air and jets off into the forest with the woman dangling below.

  The two Keepers on foot head off in the same direction, taking their time and talking about their enjoyment of catching the woman who was just taken. They disgust me. I want to throw some of these pinecones at their stupid heads, but I stay silent instead.

  When they’re far enough away and we no longer hear their horrible bragging, Kale helps us descend the tree one at a time. I’m happy that they didn’t notice him and also that my cord was already made useful. I wrap it around my waist once again.

  It’s as if we are all in denial as we set off to the west. No one addresses what we witnessed. No one attempts to strategize a new plan. We all simply walk in the direction we were headed in before we saw a woman sentenced to her death. We’re like zombies—without the cravings for flesh—lurking through the woods.

  RESOURCES

  After walking through the dense forest for about an hour, we stumble upon the first signs of life outside of the tree line. Upon first glance, I see that the land opens up into a large meadow and beyond it lays a shallow, green valley with what looks like several settlements. Rising up beyond the valley is a low mountain range with a break on the left, revealing a body of water that goes on as far as the eye can see. The vibrant green of the grass takes my breath away. I hate that it gives such a false sense of security.
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  There are about a dozen or so people standing around something that we can’t see. More join them and others leave in all directions. They are all different, wearing the clothes of many different times and cultures. Some look well fed and others look like they are starving. I can see the desperation flooding the faces of the parched and hungry, as they get closer to the center of the larger group.

  The four of us hide behind a thick tree trunk to assess the situation. The strangers don’t appear to be dangerous or angry, just tired and hopeless. There is little conversation among them. As they move around, we can see that they are pulling water up from a well. One person winds the crank up and another pours the velvety liquid into a bucket or an animal skin pouch—like I used to have. They work seamlessly, changing places, coming and going.

  Dehydration has slowly been taking over my organs and mouth. It pulls me toward the group of desperate strangers before I know it. Perhaps I am just as moronic as Victoria in my lapse of good judgment, but everyone seems harmless enough. It makes my decision easy. The others follow me, choosing to believe the same.

  As we approach, the strangers stop their seamless activity to watch us. A small child runs to her mother’s side and hides her face in her flowing gown. What is a child so young doing here? How horrible. The mother pats her daughter’s head and keeps a weary eye on us, as we get closer.

  I raise my hands up, showing them that I’m not armed. Apparently, this is funny, because a man in the back of the group lets out a hearty laugh. He is lanky with a black moustache, thinning hair, and wire rimmed spectacles. I’m surprised such a scrawny man could make such a noise. “They’re new,” he says in French to the people that surround him. I know this because I’m fluent in French. Being from Louisiana, my parents thought it was important to know my culture. So, it was French classes instead of Spanish, and I’ve never used it in real life until now.

  “Sir, we mean you all no harm. Could we please have some water?” My French is rusty, but I manage to string together the two sentences.

  He answers in English now, “Girl, you can have as much water as you want here. This is the only Safe Zone.”

  Kale is at my side now, and I can see his tattoo creeping out past the edge of his mostly unbuttoned shirt. It’s warmer here than where we came from, so he’s rolled up his sleeves and opened the neck of his shirt to cool down a little. He must be the one that scared the child, and I can tell by the sad look that passes over his face that he’s come to the same conclusion. Maybe the girl thinks he has snakes on his skin. Children can be funny about those things. He tries to smile at the little girl, but she covers her face with her mother’s tattered skirt again. Disheartened, Kale turns his attention back to my conversation with the man who spoke French. “What do you mean by safe zone?” he asks the man.

  The scrawny man sighs and comes a little closer to our group. The burden of explaining this zoo to us is aggravating him. He says, “We can’t fight here. Resources are valuable. It’s not uncommon to die fighting over food. Here in the safe zone, if we fight, the Keepers immediately sentence us to death. Everyone here is allowed to drink, but once you cross those stones you are no longer protected. And I know what you’re thinking . . . Why don’t we stay inside the circle? That’s not allowed either. You can come once a day for 15 minutes at a time,” the man answers Kale matter-of-factly. He seems like the professor type.

  I argue, “But that doesn’t make any sense. We can kill each other over there, but not here.” I point in and outside of the stone circle, like these gestures will make the French speaking man change the rules.

  His answer is just, “I don’t make the rules here. I figure they know everyone needs water to live, and it would not be in their best interest to have us all dying of thirst. They get a better show if we are somewhat healthy. Besides, we fight better when we are healthy. We protect our family and resources when we are healthy. We keep coming back here for water and doing it all again, day after day.” He shakes his head. “Best of luck to you.” The man bends over and hitches a thick tree branch across his shoulders. It has two full buckets hanging from each end, and they sway as he walks away from the well. He steps over the border stones that I failed to notice in my drive to quench my thirst.

  I turn to Kale. “What did he mean by ‘they get a better show?’”

  “Cameras maybe,” he answers with a shrug.

  Victoria surprisingly waits for permission to advance. “Can we go now? I’m so thirsty.”

  The three of us nod in unison, but then I realize we don’t have buckets or canteens or anything at all to carry water in. I verbalize my concerns to my companions. “Wait. We don’t have anything to hold water so we can take some with us.”

  James says, “Victoria and I have boots. They’ll hold water for a little while. You two have been barefoot this whole time. I’m sure we could manage.” That was a nice suggestion from James. Hot and smart. That’s a good thing.

  Displeased, Victoria says, “No. I am not walking anywhere barefoot.”

  “Aren’t you from the wild west or something? You act like you grew up in a palace with a silver spoon in your mouth. We’ve been helping you. Now’s your chance to help us.” I am surprised to hear Kale reach his breaking point with her. He doesn’t raise his voice at all, but the message is still effective.

  “Okay. Okay.” Victoria concedes, flops herself on the ground, and hikes her skirt up. In doing so, she exposes her white cotton petticoat and bloomers as she unlaces her brown leather boots. Once she’s pulled them off, she surprisingly, forcefully hurls one at me.

  James turns his back to Victoria as she accidentally shows her modest undergarments. He’s giving her privacy, or maybe he’s just watching all the strangers around us, but Kale—being from our time—doesn’t recognize the few inches of skin at her ankle and calf as being indecent. He is noticeably shocked to be called a “Peeping Tom” when Victoria realizes he’s watching her.

  I look down at my own very exposed legs and wonder what the two of them must think of me. I must look like a complete whore. Fabulous.

  James’ boots don’t have laces so they are much easier to take off. He reluctantly hands one over to Kale, who takes a sniff and wrinkles his nose. “Dude?” he says in disgust.

  “Let’s try not to think about it,” I say to him. It’s really hard not to think about it though…

  After we wait our turn in line, drink greedily, and fill our boots with water, we leave the safety of the circle and step out to face our new world head on.

  NOW WHAT?

  We stand at the edge of the plateau, looking down over the green expanse of the valley. My heart swells at the beauty of it all. There are small mountains rising up from the bottom of the valley, which give way to a sparkling blue body of water. In the distance, the sea is rough and the waves crash against an invisible barrier. Closer to the shore, the waters are abruptly still and unmoving. The enclosure’s dome must slice through the water there, blocking us from escape.

  Small boats and large ships with massive sails dot the water, just as three suburban homes (suburban from my time), a western town, grass huts, and some type of Asian style building speckle the valley floor. Nestled in the rocky cliffs of the low mountains is a medieval castle that is scaring the crap out of me right now. It screams dark ages and death.

  My mind has been completely blown. My brain is on overload. How can all this be? There’s so much beauty and diversity in one place. “Wow!” My mouth hangs open in awe of the landscape.

  Kale comments on the majesty of it all as well, “Totally.”

  Pointing into the valley below, James says a little too authoritatively, “We’re going to that town. They probably have food and somewhere for us to sleep.”

  Of course, Kale disagrees. “No, we should go to those houses.” Each wants to go to the place they are most familiar with.

  “Or maybe, we should just stay here in the forest. It seemed safe enough, except for the mountain men,�
�� I suggest.

  “But there ain’t no food in there,” Victoria complains. “Those carrots I stole didn’t grow back, remember?”

  “That guy didn’t really go into detail about where food comes from. Do you think the Keepers give us food like they did before?” I wonder aloud.

  Kale answers, “He did say people die fighting for food, so I’m assuming no, they don’t feed us. At least not in abundance.” He runs his hands over the top of his head. He furrows his brow as he discovers his hair has grown out about a half-inch.

  “Let’s just try to make our way down there, and then we’ll figure it out. One of us needs to have that thing ready to fire if we run into trouble. So that means someone needs to hold two boots of water.” I look from Kale to James assuming one of them will want to carry the bow.

  And I’m right. James shoves his full boot at Kale. Water sloshes over the rim. He warns Kale, “Don’t spill any of that. If you do, I’ll shoot this arrow right in your eye.”

  Kale makes an I’m-really-scared face and then pretends to trip, letting the smallest amount of water spill out of the shoe. He jokingly says, “Aw, man.”

  James ignores him and readies the stick arrow. He takes the lead of the rocky descent into the valley with our only crappy form of protection. It won’t do us any good if more Vikings swoop in and try to steal Victoria and me away, but we have to move forward in hopes of finding allies and food. I shoo Victoria after James, so I can follow next with Kale taking the rear. The way down is treacherous, and I can’t imagine hiking back up to refill our leather boots with water. Just the thought exhausts me.

  I place my feet carefully with each step. And each step is painful as rocks and stones jab my already sore soles. There are larger boulders to help us on our way down and occasionally some long, lush vines, but nothing is truly secure.