Tweety & the Monkey Man

by J. D. Blackrose

  The last was a tough admission. This man was mentally adding demerits to his ledger and counting on paying for them somewhere along the line. I had to make him okay with his role and his loss. Monsters are monsters. They don’t play by any rules, and the Almighty, or something or someone close, had established a squad of hitmen, and women, exactly for this reason.

  “Morgan,” I snapped. Then, more gently, “Morgan?”

  He looked at me, and I was glad to see his eyes flashed and his hands were clenched into fists. This was good. He needed to be angry, furious, laying the blame where it ought to go, at a jacked-up primatologist with a chip on his shoulder who’d stepped beyond saving and now needed to be put down.

  “This is not your fault. This is the fault of one beastie who has found a way to cheat the system and stay in were form for much longer than he should. We will mourn the dead later, but you do not hold the blame for their deaths. Remember who you talked to earlier when you called the number on my card?”

  Morgan nodded.

  “Then you know there are more mysteries between Heaven and Earth than in all of your imaginings.”

  “I think it is philosophy.”

  “It is, but give me a freakin’ break. I’m not at my best right now, and I’m trying to help you by making a point. Nothing red is on your ledger, understand? Absolutely nothing. If anything, you deserve credit for standing your ground and making the hard decisions. Now, look at me.”

  He did.

  “Where are the tranquilizers?”

  “They are supposed to be on the way. We didn’t hit him with many bullets, but the ones that hit home didn’t seem to bother him. If bullets won’t stop him, how will the tranqs?”

  “They don’t have to stop him. They need to slow him down, get him to stop eating. We may need a tractor or something once he’s down to make sure all of him is in the sun. We’ve got to broil the gorilla right out of that man, if there is any man left.” I frowned, and I knew my eyes were hard. “I’ll stop him, don’t you worry.”

  Chapter Nine

  Alupo relocated to the grassy area that stood between the big cat and Waterfowl Lake, near the playground equipment, and stood there like King Kong. Clouds roiled the sky, keeping Alupo protected from the sun, and the air smelled like rain, or snow, or hail. With Cleveland, you never know.

  Law officers and fire fighters moved to the were-gorilla’s new position and stared at the creature like they were watching a bad movie, seeing but not really believing.

  “What’s that he’s holding?” said one red-faced policeman, who looked like he wanted a cannon right about them. It was a good idea, but I didn’t know of any available, and I was certain that if Morgan did, he’d have it on site by now.

  “I think it’s a giant bunch of bananas,” said another. “He’s shoving them into his mouth one after the other, peel on. What’s in his other hand?”

  Barlow limped toward me.

  “What happened to you?”

  He was so out of breath he couldn’t speak, and instead pointed to Alupo’s other hand. “Lulu.”

  Alupo dangled a gorilla in his left hand. All she needed was a spaghetti strap dress and the bad movie analogy would be complete.

  Barlow caught his breath enough to say, “That’s Lulu. I tried to get to her, but we must not have locked her transport cage well, and she burst through and headed back. I twisted my ankle while chasing her.”

  “How’d she get caught?” I asked.

  “She charged him! She was hooting and hollering. Her vocalizations were the ones gorillas make when they are apart from their group. She was looking for someone.”

  “I know who,” I said and pointed my chin toward the ruined habitat door, where a naked, hairy man made it plain that he was displeased with the current situation.

  Rocko stormed out onto the grass on all fours, gorilla-style, and on all fours, he resembled the three-hundred-pound silverback he was. He rushed Alupo’s feet like an Ohio University linebacker slamming a quarterback on the blind side. Alupo stumbled when Rocko hit him, hampered by the lack of a properly function ankle tendon, and because both of his hands were full of either bananas or Lulu. He dropped the bananas to use his hand to stop his fall but still struck the ground with a heavy thunk. Rocko barked a challenge, and Alupo, now on all fours, pushed Lulu aside and faced him.

  “This is fascinating,” whispered Barlow. “We are witnessing a silverback challenge, albeit an unusual one. It’s a classic dominance fight over an available female.”

  Classic, my ass. My heart was in my throat watching Rocko face off with the were-gorilla. He was mismatched at every level, but like a brave soldier, he held in there, charging and retreating, using his smaller size to his advantage by moving fast.

  I was out of patience and spoke a bit sharper than I had intended, but I gripped my hands together so they couldn’t fly of their own accord. Instead, I said, “Hey, Dian Fossey, that ‘man’ out there is one of your gorillas engaging in human cosplay against his will. He’s a victim of this maniac, just like those cops. Put the National Geographic documentary on the back burner and get those tranquilizers.”

  Barlow blushed from the neck up and backed away toward the waiting police. I left him and ran into the fray to help Rocko.

  A dropped diaper bag with a long shoulder strap caught my eye, and I snatched it on the run. Neither of the combatants saw me coming as I held on to the bag with both hands and scampered into the fracas. Rocko must have sensed me though because he shifted his body with a slight turn to the right, giving me space to dive in.

  Unfortunately, that small distraction gave Alupo time to give Rocko a kick to the stomach with enough force that the big guy flew several yards and went down hard.

  “Rocko!” I yelled, but he didn’t answer and lay still. With a knot in my stomach, I pivoted mid-step to go to his side. I didn’t reach him because suddenly Lulu was on my back, growling in my ear. She pushed me to the ground and rolled me like a rag doll.

  “I’m not his girlfriend! I’m not the competition. He’s all yours. Stop, Lulu!” I fell on my back so she hit the ground first, allowing me to struggle out of her embrace.

  Lulu responded by baring her teeth and making a sharp, staccato series of grunts. I log-rolled away, but love is a possessive thing, and Lulu was staking a claim. She charged me, getting right up in my face, her mouth wide so that I couldn’t miss those incisors. I scrambled to my feet only to be knocked over again by her sheer bulk. She didn’t even put any muscle into it. I crumpled like a can.

  When she sat on me, I had a real moment of terror, knowing that if I didn’t get her off, she’d squash me like a bug and my poor husband would have to scrape up a Jess-sized pancake to bury me. I struggled for breath, gagging as my ribs almost gave way and my throat tightened. I held on another moment and whispered, “Rocko.”

  He heard me, and he lifted his head an inch from the ground and made a gentle grunting noise. Lulu grunted back and ran to him, sighing relieved little whimpers as she went to his side, letting me breathe at last.

  This left me with Kong. My initial plan to lasso his foot and send him crashing to the ground was dead on arrival, so I emptied the diaper bag, keeping only one item in it.

  The good news was that Alupo had run out of food. The bad news is that he ran away, his feet chewing up real estate so that he got farther and farther away with every step. I heaved myself up, taking in huge gulps of air, and waved down a policeman who was holding a Diet Coke with both hands as if it were a magic lamp.

  “Hey. Anyone there got a motorcycle? I need a ride.” My voice so was cracked and weak from almost being macerated by a possessive primate that he had to lean close to understand what I was saying. I repeated my question.

  “Yeah, I got one. I’ll grab it, I guess. What are we doing with my motorcycle?” His face was pale and pinched as he hoped against hope that I didn’t say chase the were-gorilla.

  “Chase the were-gorilla,” I rasped as I pointed
to Alupo’s disappearing figure. When he wasn’t looking, I grabbed his Diet Coke and downed it in one draw.

  I’m pretty sure he muttered, “You bitch,” but I could be wrong.

  “You don’t have a helmet, ma’am,” he said, holding his body stiff and not meeting my eyes.

  “Officer, a were-gorilla is storming the castle, during the day, and murdered several of your friends. I locked a phoenix in the lorikeet cage, the closest thing I have to a friend around here is a semi-conscious, naked gorilla in a man-suit, and I was almost flattened by his jealous lady-friend. I think we can forgo the helmet, just this once.”

  I said the last words one at a time, slow and drawn out, so he knew that the crazy lady with the crazy hair and the crazy stench was a woman on the edge who was pissed she didn’t have a baseball bat.

  I vocalized that last part, much to my chagrin. I thought I was talking to myself, but the cop heard me.

  “Baseball bat? Burt’s got one in the car. He helps with Little League on the weekends. Hey Burt! Got your bat?”

  “And a ball?” I said, an excited uptick in my voice that made me sound like I was a prepubescent boy. A tall, gangly officer unlocked his patrol car, which was parked on the grass, and handed me a bat and a ball, silent the entire time. I offered my hand in a fist bump, which he ignored. I stuffed the items in the diaper bag, the bat’s handle positioned for an easy draw, threw it over my shoulder, and hopped on the bike.

  “Thataway!” I screamed, or at least I tried. My abraded throat made it sound more like a banshee with strep, which scared the poor cop so much that we jolted forward and stuttered to a stall. He straightened his shoulders, said something about Mary and Joseph, and hit the gas. We took an educated guess on his location based on the howling of the…

  “Wolves?” I said out loud, slapping my hand against my forehead. “Aw, crap. Wolves are dangerous.”

  Officer Motorcycle said, “They like cheese.”

  “Whaaaat?” My throat was as dry as sandpaper.

  “I come here with my grandson all the time. The wolves like cheese. That’s how they train them. I guess it makes sense. My dog loves cheese, but of course, he eats anything, so he’s not a good metric to go by.”

  “Stop here.”

  The were-gorilla was foraging for grass, hay, anything he could find. The camels, next to the wolves, had piles of vegetation in their enclosure. Once he found those, he shoveled handfuls in his mouth. Some of it dropped out and got caught in his pelt, and he must have chewed something he didn’t like because he spit it out like some two-year-old eating mashed peas. The camels didn’t seem to be bothered by this, the fluttering of their long eyelashes the only outward sign of pique.

  “Go back and get those tranquilizers and shooters in place. That is the top priority,” I said to Officer Motorcycle. “And thanks for the tip about the cheese. Do you know if it is any particular kind of cheese?”

  The officer gave me a look.

  “I guess whatever’s in there. I’ve never asked.” Officer Motorcycle made the sign of the cross and drove off without a backward glance.

  I grumbled to myself. “It matters. I hate pimento. Why does everyone want to put pimento in cheese?”

  The random thoughts brought me up short. Afraid for my sanity, I stopped, shook my body like a dog in a bath and said, “Get it together, Jess. You can do this. Use your wits and stay calm.”

  My pep talk helped, so I gathered my courage and clomped to the waiting were-gorilla, who moved to the leaves and branches of the trees in and around the exhibit. He sniffed as if he could tell something was near, but I smelled so much like him, minus the lorikeet nectar, that he brushed it off.

  What he didn’t brush off was the direct hit to the head from the baseball. I’d thrown it up in the air, took a championship swing, and home run! I knocked his noggin hard. He let out an earth-shattering roar of pain that riled the wolves and hurtled toward me.

  “You need to die,” he snarled as he coiled a fist and swung toward my face. Now, I was exhausted and hurting, but when a wrecking ball is getting ready to wallop you, somewhere, somehow, you find the energy to run. In my case, it was more of a slow jog, but I got out of the way, and I did what Alupo least expected.

  I ran toward the wolves.

  Chapter Ten

  Running toward the wolves wasn’t a brilliant idea, but I needed some allies, and I figured the wolves would realize the gorilla was the bigger threat. Besides, I planned to bribe them.

  First, I had to get inside the enclosure, which I did by scooting around the “Learning Cabin,” finding a back entrance. I rammed it with my shoulder, the door flew off one hinge, and I staggered through, hands up in fists, snarling as I challenged whatever was behind that door.

  Turned out that ramming wasn’t necessary because the door was unlocked and no one was there, but it looked good, in case anyone was watching. Moving on.

  I spied a refrigerator in the zoo keepers’ private area and flung the door open. Sure enough, it was stocked with cubes of cheddar in gallon-sized plastic bags. I grabbed two bags, plus the key hanging on a nail next to the enclosure door, and unlocked the door. At the last minute, I picked up a Jack Hanna safari hat someone had left and smashed it on my head. I could smell rain and was hoping it would arrive soon. Rain in Cleveland tends to come with dark, roiling clouds, and while the darkness might work to his advantage, being out in lake effect rain was an experience of biblical proportions. Whomever had written the Noah story hailed from Cleveland.

  Before I could lose my nerve, I lurched into the enclosure, holding my cheese in front of me like a shield. “Cheese! Cheese!” I announced, my voice a crackling caw. Every wolf turned its eyes on me with a disconcerting intensity, and the entire pack was slavering at the mouth. They paced toward me in a semi-circle formation, the alpha wolf at the head, in the middle, his gold eyes on me. I backed up against the wall and closed my eyes. Maybe this was a really, really, bad idea.

  Nothing happened, and when I opened my eyes, the wolves were sitting in a polite semi-circle, waiting for their treats. I opened the bag and tossed a handful of cheese to each wolf. Some of the ones in the front must have been lower in the pack because they waited to eat until the others started. They gulped down their cheese just as Kong’s foot smashed their fence.

  They may have been trained to sit for cheese, but no one messes with a wolf pack’s territory. The alpha dropped his cheese and turned, snarling at the intruder. In an amazing display of unspoken coordination, the omega wolves pulled the three pups to a hiding place, and the rest of the pack kept their eye on the intruder.

  Kong brought his other foot down on the fence, and the rest flattened, the electric part at the top, designed to keep stupid people out of the enclosure, fizzled to nothing. The wolves could now run free, but before they could realize this, Alupo, who’d run out of foliage to eat, grabbed a wolf by the scruff of the neck and held him up like a goldfish going down an eight-year-old’s throat.

  Or, that’s what he thought he was going to do. The alpha wolf led the charge, with me following. The wolves fanned out, each taking their place, and the lead wolves, the alpha male and alpha female, sped in to bite his feet and claw his legs, ripping chunks away. I don’t know how much it hurt the were-gorilla, seeing as how he shook off bullets an hour ago, but wolves are smart, and they harried his injured ankle.

  He hopped around, trying to get out of the wolf pack’s range, but they weren’t going to let him. He dropped the wolf he’d been holding, who landed on three legs, the fourth off the ground, obviously injured. He tried to fight anyway, until the alpha barked a command, and he limped out and let another one take his place.

  As the wolves harried the gorilla, I saw my chance. Following the wolves’ lead, I swung my bat as hard as possible into Alupo’s feet, then ran back out, only to repeat the exercise from another angle. I soon followed the wolves’ rhythm of moving in, out, and around.

  Alupo’s body flashed like a superno
va, forcing me to close my eyes. When I opened them, all I could see were spots. It took a full minute to see clearly, and by that time, he’d reformed as an unnaturally tall human. He flashed again and was back to were-gorilla form. The wolves stood back, on guard but not attacking as they watched.

  Alupo flickered in and out of human form, each time forming and reforming so that his sliced Achilles tendon bled anew. He roared to the sky and got down on all fours to fight, continuing the out-of-control shape change every few minutes. “Why do you care about these animals, woman?” he bellowed, his voice a grinding, discordant mixture of human and animal. “Why do you care about those police officers? Why do you care about my revenge?”

  I didn’t stop fighting, knowing I couldn’t stop until he was finished permanently. “Well,” I said, taking a hard swing toward his knee. “That’s what separates humans from monsters. We care about people and animals and the planet. We know when the natural order of things is misaligned, and we realign it.” I took another thwack at his knee in the same place.

  His voice was slower, more guttural, and he missed some words.

  “Walk…walk away and let me eat my fill. When moon…come…I’ll have power. I don’t kill in Cleveland now. I kill in New York, London, Boston, big cities. Cleveland nothing. Nothing I want here.”

  “Them’s fighting words, and there’s one thing you need to know about Cleveland…” I bashed the same knee two good hits in a row and looked up at the darkening sky. “If you don’t like the weather, just wait a minute.”

  The rain came down in buckets. It sluiced down the were-gorilla’s body, dripped in his eyes, and pooled in his ears. With the wolves harrying his feet, me bashing at his knees, and the rain pouring on his head, this were-gorilla didn’t know where to focus. One last, hard hit to the knee and the joint broke, giving way so that Alupo crashed to the ground in were-gorilla form.