Half-Off Ragnarok
Page 82
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“If the cockatrice was nearby, that would have given them plenty to be upset about.” Animals were more adept than humans at knowing when there was danger close by them. Better senses of smell, better instincts, and less arrogance. It wouldn’t necessarily keep them safe, but it could turn them into early warning systems. “Did Lloyd say or do anything else?”
“You mean beyond stabbing me? Because believe me, that was more than enough to convince me that I didn’t want to be anywhere near the fucker.” Shelby pressed a hand against the cut in her side. “He said I wasn’t fooling him. I wanted to ask him what I’d been trying to fool him about, but he didn’t leave me much time. The stabbing was already in process, and running away was a much more important goal.”
“Right. We need to get you out of here.” I looked at the door that would lead us back into the big cat house. Shelby was injured; she needed medical treatment. But unless we wanted to explain the entire impossible situation to the Columbus police, I needed to get her out of the zoo without either of us being seen, and without running into Lloyd, who had somehow been transformed from a mild-mannered security guard to a knife-wielding maniac.
“No big deal, right?” I muttered. More loudly, I asked, “Shelby? Where do you keep the bleach?”
Shelby had almost stopped bleeding, and while her injuries were bad enough to make me want to scoop her into my arms and carry her back to the car damsel-in-distress style, they weren’t bad enough to be life-threatening if we got her looked at soon. Much as I hated to take the time, leaving a trail of human blood through the big cat house would cause us a lot more problems than we had the energy to deal with right now.
Fortunately, zookeepers are experts when it comes to dealing with bloodstains. I found bleach, meat tenderizer, and a bloodstained mop in the janitor’s closet, and set about mixing Shelby’s blood with the blood of a whole lot of dead animals as I vigorously mopped up the trail I’d used to find her. She sat tiredly on an overturned bucket, watching me work, pointing out when I missed a spot, and trying not to get any more blood on the floor. She was still responsive and alert, and she swore she wasn’t bleeding anymore. I wasn’t certain I believed her. I wasn’t certain it mattered.
When the mess on the floor had been reduced to just another stain of indeterminate origin, I returned the mop, bucket, and cleaning supplies to their places. Shelby was waiting when I came back. “All good?” she asked.
“All clean,” I said, offering my arm. “We’re going to have to find another way out of the zoo.”
“What about the delivery gate?” asked Shelby. “That’s how you had Dee get Chandi out before.”
“That might work. Can you walk?”
“I could hike a mile without noticing it, but only if we left now,” said Shelby. Her grip on my arm belied her careless tone. She was worried, and frankly, so was I. “I’m sorry we didn’t find the cockatrice.”
“No, but we know it’s here.” I began walking toward the exit, taking it slow out of consideration for Shelby’s injuries. This time, I was hoping we wouldn’t see any other security guards. As we walked, I explained what I’d found in the capybara enclosure, including the poor, petrified duck.
She laughed, sounding a little bit perplexed as she asked, “So what, you just walked off and left him there? Won’t someone notice?”
“Maybe. But everyone will assume someone else did it. In five years, everybody will swear the duck came from one of the fountains, or that it was put there as a prank by one of the summer trainees. It’ll become part of the landscape. Trust me. Denial is a powerful force in the human psyche, and anyone who works around animals gets extremely good at it.”
“Swell. How do you think they’ll explain away us if we get petrified? Will we be a tribute to the two zookeepers who mysteriously decided to abandon their posts after a few people got murdered?”
“Since statues wearing real clothes aren’t exactly considered high art in Ohio, probably not.” I kept scanning the bushes as we walked, watching for signs of the cockatrice. “They’d remove us quickly and without making a fuss, and write it off as a terrible prank committed by someone with no social skills whatsoever.”
“Sounds like you’ve really thought this through.”
“I think most things through, even when it might be better not to.” The zoo was built in a mostly circular design. Every path curved slightly, either conforming to the shapes of the enclosures, or leading the guests inexorably toward the money-making points on our local compass: the gift shop, the café, the exit. We were trying to avoid falling into that easy passage, working against the shape of the land as we pressed on toward the gate that was used for large deliveries.
We could have taken the back passages, hidden from the main facility by clever fencing and building placement, but those were narrow and confined, and much more likely to be observed by the skeleton crew of security on the premises. Counterintuitive as it seemed, cutting straight through the middle of the zoo was the best way to move unobserved.
Then there was the matter of Lloyd. I kept the hand that wasn’t supporting Shelby on my gun as we walked. I didn’t know why the old security guard had stabbed my girlfriend, and if he put in a repeat appearance, I wasn’t going to give him the luxury of explaining.
Something rustled in the bushes. I looked over and saw another smug, well-fed goose waddling out, tail wagging as it approached us. “Just a goose,” I said, shoulders relaxing slightly.
Shelby didn’t answer.
“Shelby?” Even as I said her name, I realized she wasn’t walking so much as stumbling along, more than half-dragged by my own momentum. I turned toward her. She was sagging on my arm, shoulders slumped, head dangling like it was simply too heavy to be held up. “Shelby?”
“’M okay,” she slurred. “Just a little shocky, that’s all. ’M fine . . .”
“Liar,” I said. Speed was suddenly more important than safety. I took my hand off my gun and swung her up into my arms, only staggering slightly under the weight of her before I started jogging down the path toward the delivery gate. She gasped a little at the jostling. I winced, and kept going. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but we need to get you looked at as soon as possible, and that means we’re running.”
“You mean beyond stabbing me? Because believe me, that was more than enough to convince me that I didn’t want to be anywhere near the fucker.” Shelby pressed a hand against the cut in her side. “He said I wasn’t fooling him. I wanted to ask him what I’d been trying to fool him about, but he didn’t leave me much time. The stabbing was already in process, and running away was a much more important goal.”
“Right. We need to get you out of here.” I looked at the door that would lead us back into the big cat house. Shelby was injured; she needed medical treatment. But unless we wanted to explain the entire impossible situation to the Columbus police, I needed to get her out of the zoo without either of us being seen, and without running into Lloyd, who had somehow been transformed from a mild-mannered security guard to a knife-wielding maniac.
“No big deal, right?” I muttered. More loudly, I asked, “Shelby? Where do you keep the bleach?”
Shelby had almost stopped bleeding, and while her injuries were bad enough to make me want to scoop her into my arms and carry her back to the car damsel-in-distress style, they weren’t bad enough to be life-threatening if we got her looked at soon. Much as I hated to take the time, leaving a trail of human blood through the big cat house would cause us a lot more problems than we had the energy to deal with right now.
Fortunately, zookeepers are experts when it comes to dealing with bloodstains. I found bleach, meat tenderizer, and a bloodstained mop in the janitor’s closet, and set about mixing Shelby’s blood with the blood of a whole lot of dead animals as I vigorously mopped up the trail I’d used to find her. She sat tiredly on an overturned bucket, watching me work, pointing out when I missed a spot, and trying not to get any more blood on the floor. She was still responsive and alert, and she swore she wasn’t bleeding anymore. I wasn’t certain I believed her. I wasn’t certain it mattered.
When the mess on the floor had been reduced to just another stain of indeterminate origin, I returned the mop, bucket, and cleaning supplies to their places. Shelby was waiting when I came back. “All good?” she asked.
“All clean,” I said, offering my arm. “We’re going to have to find another way out of the zoo.”
“What about the delivery gate?” asked Shelby. “That’s how you had Dee get Chandi out before.”
“That might work. Can you walk?”
“I could hike a mile without noticing it, but only if we left now,” said Shelby. Her grip on my arm belied her careless tone. She was worried, and frankly, so was I. “I’m sorry we didn’t find the cockatrice.”
“No, but we know it’s here.” I began walking toward the exit, taking it slow out of consideration for Shelby’s injuries. This time, I was hoping we wouldn’t see any other security guards. As we walked, I explained what I’d found in the capybara enclosure, including the poor, petrified duck.
She laughed, sounding a little bit perplexed as she asked, “So what, you just walked off and left him there? Won’t someone notice?”
“Maybe. But everyone will assume someone else did it. In five years, everybody will swear the duck came from one of the fountains, or that it was put there as a prank by one of the summer trainees. It’ll become part of the landscape. Trust me. Denial is a powerful force in the human psyche, and anyone who works around animals gets extremely good at it.”
“Swell. How do you think they’ll explain away us if we get petrified? Will we be a tribute to the two zookeepers who mysteriously decided to abandon their posts after a few people got murdered?”
“Since statues wearing real clothes aren’t exactly considered high art in Ohio, probably not.” I kept scanning the bushes as we walked, watching for signs of the cockatrice. “They’d remove us quickly and without making a fuss, and write it off as a terrible prank committed by someone with no social skills whatsoever.”
“Sounds like you’ve really thought this through.”
“I think most things through, even when it might be better not to.” The zoo was built in a mostly circular design. Every path curved slightly, either conforming to the shapes of the enclosures, or leading the guests inexorably toward the money-making points on our local compass: the gift shop, the café, the exit. We were trying to avoid falling into that easy passage, working against the shape of the land as we pressed on toward the gate that was used for large deliveries.
We could have taken the back passages, hidden from the main facility by clever fencing and building placement, but those were narrow and confined, and much more likely to be observed by the skeleton crew of security on the premises. Counterintuitive as it seemed, cutting straight through the middle of the zoo was the best way to move unobserved.
Then there was the matter of Lloyd. I kept the hand that wasn’t supporting Shelby on my gun as we walked. I didn’t know why the old security guard had stabbed my girlfriend, and if he put in a repeat appearance, I wasn’t going to give him the luxury of explaining.
Something rustled in the bushes. I looked over and saw another smug, well-fed goose waddling out, tail wagging as it approached us. “Just a goose,” I said, shoulders relaxing slightly.
Shelby didn’t answer.
“Shelby?” Even as I said her name, I realized she wasn’t walking so much as stumbling along, more than half-dragged by my own momentum. I turned toward her. She was sagging on my arm, shoulders slumped, head dangling like it was simply too heavy to be held up. “Shelby?”
“’M okay,” she slurred. “Just a little shocky, that’s all. ’M fine . . .”
“Liar,” I said. Speed was suddenly more important than safety. I took my hand off my gun and swung her up into my arms, only staggering slightly under the weight of her before I started jogging down the path toward the delivery gate. She gasped a little at the jostling. I winced, and kept going. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I’m so sorry, but we need to get you looked at as soon as possible, and that means we’re running.”
