The Zoo at the Edge of the World (4 page)

6.

S
livers of light leaked from the roof into the stable, and my eyes took their time adjusting. I saw only dim outlines in the room, sweat gleaming off the shoulder of a worker, maybe Manray, as he walked by.

He was dragging a heavy chain across the floor, and I could hear the sound of metal pieces coming unsettled and then clinking back together.

“Do you see him?” Father whispered.

“See what?” Tim asked.

“Over there.” Father pointed. “The end of the stable.”

Tim went absolutely frozen. He must have seen it before I did.

“Wuh—wuh-ww—” My eyes were just beginning to make out a shape.

“Holy . . .” Tim gasped. “You said you were going to kill it!”

Father laughed, loud and hard. It made me jump. When I opened my eyes again, it became clear to me.

“Our newest attraction!” Father said.

The shadows at the end of the stable coalesced, and I could see the black outline of bars on a mobile carrier. The wheeled cage was parked at the far wall of the room, and inside it was a smoothly flowing shadow.

I couldn't tell one end of the undulating mass from the other until it opened its eyes. Yellow orbs blinked at me.

“W—w—whu—why?” I managed to ask Father.

“Why bring it back alive?” Father said, and I nodded. “Why not, I ask you?”

“He's a man-eater,” Tim blurted out.

Father tipped his head. “That's true,” he said. “The beast did kill Nathtam. And with a taste for human flesh, it's not safe for him to be roaming around.”

“But then why'd you bring him here?”

Father turned to me to gauge my reaction. I couldn't hide that I wondered it too. Across the room, the jaguar snarled.

“The beast doesn't abide by our rules, only the rules of the jungle. He ate a man because a man put himself in his way,” Father said. “I'm not happy about what happened, but I won't punish an animal for being an animal. Would you?”

Tim mumbled a nothing, and I shrugged.

“That's not why we're here, my boys. This zoo isn't just entertainment for the rich. We are showing that the wilds of the jungle can be conquered. That there is nothing to fear. Anyone can come here and enjoy these lands.”

“Yes, Father,” Tim said dutifully.

“Yeh-ye—yes,” I said. I couldn't argue with what Father had said. The jaguar was just an animal, doing what animals do. Even if it scared me.

“But if we want to show the world there's nothing to fear,” Father said, motioning Manray over, “we must be fearless ourselves.”

Manray handed him two collar sticks, long metal rods, each with an adjustable noose at the end. “First one to collar him gets the Paw,” Father said, urging us forward.

“Are you serious?” Tim gasped, pushing back toward Father.

“Are you chicken?” Father laughed. “What about you, Marlin?”

Tim shot me an uncertain look. If we both refused the challenge, the game would be canceled and he could keep the Paw. I could avoid the shame of losing and stay far from the jaguar. But I didn't know when I'd have another chance to win it.

I took the collar stick and started creeping toward the cage.

“Oh, curse it!” Tim griped, grabbing the other collar stick and coming up behind me. “You said you'd kill this bloody thing!”

“And miss this entertainment?” Father bellowed. “I've never made a better decision in my life.”

Tim came up beside me, and we advanced toward the cage with our shoulders touching. If he'd wanted to be first, he could have easily sped ahead of me, but we were both near petrified. If Father hadn't been watching, I think we might have crawled. Or run away entirely.

The outline of the creature's form filled in, and his terrible proportions became clear. The chest was narrow, and his limbs were lithe and thin. Enormous pads with two-inch claws capped each foot, and his mouth was wide with teeth.

The jaguar sat up straight and towered over Tim and me. We both sweatily gripped our collar sticks. I looked to Tim, but he pretended not to notice, focusing only on the jaguar.

Its yellow eyes rolled from him to me, like moons migrating across the sky.

“Give it a try, Marlin,” Father called. “Tim's froze up.”

That did it. With a thrust, Tim shot his collar stick between the iron bars of the cage. The jaguar leaped back and the carrier shifted, causing the bars to tilt with the swaying ceiling.

Tim swiped the noose and missed. The jaguar pressed the rod against the bottom of the cage with his paw, bit down on it, and with one powerful flick of his neck pulled it all the way into the cage, then out between the bars on the other side.

Tim's collar stick landed in a pile of donkey droppings. His hands were red from where the slipping of the rod had burned him.

“Going to try it again?” Father laughed.

Tim tensed his lips and looked back at him. “Marlin should have to try first.”

I adjusted the rod in my hand and glanced at Tim, who was backing away from the cage toward the safety of the wall.

The jaguar and I locked eyes, and a low grumble emitted from his throat. I couldn't tell if it was a growl or a purr.

I gingerly slid the noose end of the rod between the bars of the carrier, keeping it low and nonthreatening.

“That's it, Marlin,” Father mumbled from behind. “Easy does it.”

Gradually, I lifted the collar end of the stick off the cage floor and pressed it gently against the side of the jaguar's foreleg. I left it there for a moment, applying slight pressure, to let the jaguar become acquainted with the collar and show him there was nothing to fear.

The jaguar kept his head high, glancing down at me. I would have said he had a bemused expression on his face, if an animal could be bemused.

I lifted the noose end of the rod higher, tracing the outline of the jaguar's form upward. Through the pressure I put on the rod, it was almost like I was petting him, and I could feel the remarkable firmness of the creature's muscles. Though slim, he was strong.

The noose went over his head like a collar over a dog's. I turned the knob that tightened the cord, and the job was done.

“Yes!” Father said from the end of the stable. “Well done, Marlin!”

“It wasn't that still for me,” Tim griped. “That's not fair.”

“Just make sure it's tight,” Father said, ignoring Tim.

I put my hand on the knob, having intentionally left some slack. But I turned it tighter, and the jaguar gurgled in his throat.

“Sorry,” I whispered to the jaguar, Father still out of earshot. “Does that hurt?”

The jaguar's eyes flashed and the beast yanked back his head with enough force that the rod, and my arms trailing with it, rammed between two bars of the cage.

I let go of the stick, but my arms were stuck in the bars, exposed to his claws and his teeth. Once jaguars bite, they don't let go. His cold nose sniffed up my forearms until the bars separated our faces by mere inches.

Then he roared.

Father caught me at the chest, and my arms wrenched out of the cage as I tumbled to the floor. There were shouts and growls, and my feet went
tut-tut-tut
against the stones as Father dragged me away. I couldn't do anything but smell the stench of his armpit and feel the throbbing in my head.

The world around me went cloudy and muffled and dark. But I paid no attention. There was only one thought in my mind.

The jaguar had told me, “Yes.”

First Night

The Zoo at the Edge of the World is famous for attracting high-class clientele, and nowhere is the exquisite breeding of our guests on finer display than at the Welcoming Gala.

Lords and ladies from every corner of the Commonwealth and Europe have graced the dance floor of our Great Hall. Once an Italian prince bought up all of one week's tickets and brought his entire court along for the fun.

We are surrounded by savage jungle, but our Great Hall is pure high-society. Make sure you take time to admire the Chinese dinnerware and French stained-glass windows.

Your master of ceremonies, Captain Ronan Rackham, has a soft spot for the sweet sounds of England, and they are played magnificently by our house band.

After you've glided across our white-tile dance floor in the arms of your beloved, swaying to the nostalgic strains of a heavenly tune, you'll swear you're not in the Americas at all, but instead dancing the night away at the royal palace.

7.

I
could hear someone talking through the walls.

“The big man's back.”

I'd been lying awake for hours, running the events of the day through my head. Father took me out the back door of the gatehouse with Manray. When we got back to our house, I told him I was fine. That's when he gave me the Paw. Tim was furious and said I screwed up and almost got myself killed so I shouldn't have it. But Father said he was proud of me.

We ate and washed and prepared for the Welcoming Gala, which I usually loved. But that night, the music seemed muted, the food tasted bland, and I couldn't focus on a single thing anybody said or did all night.

Because the jaguar told me, “Yes.”

But now there was someone in our house, and I was scared.

“Just be quick about it.”

“You think they're asleep?”

Robbers are dangerous out here. No policemen, no protection. We post guards around the walls of the resort at night, but there's no one at our home; Father prefers privacy. The men are always saying he should post a guard at the door. Lots of criminals from Georgetown hide out in the jungle, and this is a good place to sack, filled with rich guests.

“It's getting late. We should make a move.”

I flung off the sheets. The night air was cool and it raised bumps on my skin. If they were in the house already, it might be too late.

“Go and tell us if it's clear.”

I put my hand to the Paw in my front pajama pocket, and it gave me courage. I leaped out of bed, ran to the big door at the end of the hall, and frantically knocked.

On the other side, I heard a curse and the sound of a turning lock. Father opened the door in sleeping clothes. His hairy legs were bare beneath white shorts, his eyes squinty, and his mustache flattened on the side he'd been sleeping on.

He collared me and closed the door behind us, opening the oil lamp he kept hanging from the bedpost and turning the spark stone. A golden light leaped across the room.

A big bronze ring that hung on an iron hook glowed brightly. They were Father's keys to the zoo. He ran his fingers over them and sat across from me.

“Sound it out slow,” he said.

“RR—rh—rh-rh—” I stuttered, and stopped. Father seemed patient tonight, or maybe he was still just half asleep. I minded my mouth contacts.
Lips, tongue, teeth, air.
“RR—ro—oo—”

It hurt. My lips curled and I was fighting myself, I could tell. It never worked if I fought myself.

Father blinked the sleep out of his eyes and put his hands on my shoulders, reassuringly. He had enormous hands that could crush me if they wanted, but he was always gentle.

“Rob—rob—ers.” I pointed at the door, and Father's eyes widened.

“In the house?” he whispered.

I pointed to my ear and nodded. Father shot his attention toward the door. The wood looked thin. He passed me the oil lamp and threw the pillow off his bed. Beneath was an ornate oak box.

An ivory-handled revolver was cushioned inside, a gift from some nobleman. Father brandished the gun and pushed open the bedroom door.

When we got to Tim's room, he was still asleep. It's nearly impossible to wake him up without pulling him out of bed, so that's what Father did.

“Huh! What's it?” Tim gasped as he hit the floorboards. He spotted me first. “Marlin! I'll kill you, you peeve!”

Father knelt and put a hand over Tim's mouth.

“Marlin's heard intruders,” he whispered.

“Sure it's not voices in your head?” Tim said, pushing Father's hand away.

“Quiet.”

“I was quiet before you barged in,” Tim mumbled.

Father glared at him, and Tim cast down his eyes. He'd forgotten who he was talking to. Father pushed us both behind him, and the three of us made our way into the hall. Father kept the pistol close to his side and told me to hold the lamp high. We descended the stairs and checked the dining room. It was empty. Then the parlor and the kitchen. No one was there.

I felt a pinch at my back. “Ah!” I cried.

Father spun on me with the gun. The Jungle Look flashed for a moment, and I thought he'd shoot me. Then he lowered the gun.

“Silence,” he slowly mouthed. Behind me, Tim was trying to hold his chuckling back.

We checked the library, the back way, the sunroom, the washrooms, and the closets. Father tested the bolts on the front and back doors. Both were engaged and undamaged.

“No signs,” he said with a sigh.

“I'd hoped there were thieves,” laughed Tim. “Then we could hand them Monkey Talker here as a hostage.”

Father just looked tired. Tim laughed some more.

“Th-th-th—” I stuttered.

“I think we've had enough excitement for the night,” Father said. “Let's go back to bed.”

“That's it?” Tim said. “That's all he gets for waking us up in the middle of the night, with a new load of guests just arrived, to chase his imaginary friends?”

Father considered it for a minute. Then he held out his hand. “I'm sorry, Marlin.”

“N-nnn-NNN—”
No,
I tried to say.

But he just looked at me with tired eyes.

I put my hand over my breast pocket, shivering slightly.

“Never more than a day.” Tim shook his head in mock sympathy.

Father pushed my hand away and pulled the Paw out of my breast pocket. He passed it to Tim, who crowed triumphantly.

“Next time you have a nightmare,” Tim whispered to me, “just wet your bed.”