Tiger in Trouble (6 page)

“Not far. About a two-hour flight.”

“I do not like planes. Too small — I have to duck my head to get in, and Vladimir does not fit in the seats.”

That probably had more to do with the size of Vladimir than it did the size of the planes.

“You could drive there,” Nick suggested. “I bet you could drive it in a day.”

“No car.”

“Couldn’t you use this van?” Nick asked.

“Not good for driving.”

Nobody would argue with that. The engine, which had been thumping badly the whole time, sounded as if it were going to shoot right through the hood whenever we started to climb a hill. Behind us trailed a cloud of blue smoke. To top it off, it seemed to me that the whole van was tilting toward Vladimir. Maybe that was partially because he was so big, but still, it shouldn’t have been leaning in his direction.

“Maybe you could take a bus,” Nick suggested.

“Too much money. And no time. I have to work.”

“You could go when you have a vacation,” Nick said.

“What is vacation?” Vladimir asked.

“Holidays … time off,” Nick answered.

Vladimir snorted. “No time off with animals. Animals need Vladimir.”

“Couldn’t one of the other staff take care of the animals while you were gone?” Nick was one persistent guy. Actually, he persistently annoyed me with his persistence.

“No other people.”

“You’re the only staff person at this camp?” I questioned anxiously.

“There are other people,” Valdimir answered. “But no other animal people. People sell tickets, clean garbage …”

“Well, you’ll have lots of help this week,” Nick said. “Because of Mr. McCurdy, Sarah and I know lots about animals.”

“Which one is Sarah?” Vladimir asked.

“Me, I’m Sarah.”

“And I’m Samantha.”

Vladimir nodded. “Little girl Samantha … big girl Sarah.”

“I’ll help, too. My name’s Danny,” the little boy chimed in.

“I’m sure all the campers will help,” Samantha said. “How many are there?”

“Four,” Vladimir said.

“Four?” I questioned.

“But there has to be more than four,” I argued.

“One, two, three and four,” Vladimir said, pointing at each of us as he counted.

“We know there are four people in the van, but how many are in the camp?” I asked.

“Four. One, two, three, four,” he said, pointing again.

“But there has to be more campers,” Samantha argued.

“Maybe next week. First week, four. One, two, three —”

“We get the idea,” Samantha snapped.

She certainly was sharp with people, more than a little bossy and a bit of a know-it-all. But I couldn’t waste my time thinking about her when I had bigger concerns. What sort of a camp had a beat-up old van, basically one staff member and only four campers? It must be something else.

“Can we see the baby lions when we get there?” Nick asked from the back of the van.

“You can see, but not close up,” Vladimir said. “If people are too close, it makes the lion mummy afraid. If she’s afraid she could kill babies.”

“Kill them?” Samantha cried.

Vladimir shrugged. “Happens sometimes. So we leave babies and mummy alone for a while.”

“That’s too bad,” Nick said. “It would be neat to see them when they’re that young.”

“Lots of babies are still coming. This is the season. You may even help with some mummies and babies.”

That sounded sort of exciting. And scary. And probably messy.

“Here is camp!” Vladimir called out, and the bus slowed down.

We were passing by a long, high, white wooden wall. On the wall were gigantic paintings of animals. Some were sitting, others standing, jumping, sitting in trees or partially hidden in jungle scenes. They were certainly colourful, but not much better than the paintings on the side of the van.

Vladimir turned the van into a lane and stopped in front of a high chain-link gate. It was topped by strands of barbed wire. He climbed out of the van, and the whole thing seemed to rise, relieved of his weight. Vladimir walked up to the gate, removed a thick chain and gave the gate a good push. It swung open, inviting us to enter.

Vladimir came back to the van, got in and put it into gear. It rumbled a few metres forward, sputtered and stalled halfway through the gate. He tried to restart the van, but the engine coughed and complained. As he turned the key again, the engine cranked but wouldn’t catch. Vladimir muttered under his breath. The engine wasn’t listening to what he was saying — whatever it was — and continued to grind.

“Everybody out!” Vladimir ordered.

I guessed we were at the end of the line, and was grateful the old bucket of bolts had gotten us this far. We started to climb out.

“Wait!” Vladimir called out, and everybody froze. “Big girl … Sarah. You stay. You steer.”

“Steer? What do you mean steer?”

“You steer while the rest push.”

“We’re going to push the van?” Nick asked.

“We cannot leave it here. Must push,” said Vladimir.

“But I don’t know how to drive,” I protested.

“Not drive. Steer.”

Vladimir climbed out and patted the seat with his hand, motioning me to sit. Reluctantly I moved between the seats and plunked down.

“Good, now steer.”

I put both hands on the steering wheel. Vladimir closed the door and joined everybody else at the back of the van.

“Ready!” Vladimir yelled. “Now push!”

I braced myself, getting ready for the vehicle to move. Vladimir, I figured, was probably strong enough by himself to hurl the van forward. I tightened my grip on the wheel and … it didn’t move.

Vladimir walked to the side of the van and tapped on the window. I rolled down the glass, and he leaned in.

“Sarah, you need to take foot off brake.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I apologized as I moved my foot.

The vehicle started to roll backwards.

“Put foot back on brake!” he bellowed. His accent seemed to get stronger when he was upset.

I jumped and slammed my foot down at the same time, wishing he hadn’t yelled.

“Keep your foot on the brake till I say to push,” he said, returning to the back of the van. “Push!”

I lifted my foot, and the van started moving — not quickly, but it definitely was inching forward. I held on to the wheel even tighter. The van picked up speed and we cleared the gate. The whole park opened before me. There were pens and some buildings down the road — far enough away that there was no chance I could hit them.

The van continued to pick up speed. Boy, were they ever pushing hard! I wondered how far they wanted to go. Maybe to that first building. Every metre closer meant a metre less we had to carry our luggage.

I looked in the rear-view mirror. They weren’t pushing — they were far behind, running and waving their arms! My stomach did a flip! I realized I was going down a slight hill that led all the way to the buildings — and I was rolling, picking up speed, going faster and faster! I slammed my foot on the brake. The van screeched to a stop and, to my shock, I continued forward, soaring out of my seat over the steering wheel and toward the windshield. Helpless, I tried to free my hands from the wheel, but I could only slightly turn my head as the side of my face smacked into the glass. I bounced back and landed in the seat again.

That hurt like crazy, but at least I’d managed to … The van started forward again slowly. I jammed my foot back onto the brake. There had to be some way to keep it from rolling without my keeping my foot there. I thought about my mother driving and all the times I’d watched her and … the emergency brake! I looked to the side, saw the little pedal, pushed it down and locked it into place. When I removed my foot, the van stayed still.

I opened the door and climbed out. The others were still down the road and were now walking. I bent down and looked at my face in the side-view mirror. I couldn’t see anything — no cut, or bruising — at least not yet, but it still felt sore as I rubbed the side of my face. The only good thing was that Nick hadn’t been there to laugh about it.

“We thought you were stealing the van!” Nick yelled as they closed in.

“I just figured I’d save us from having to carry the bags so far.”

Vladimir opened the back door and started to pull out our luggage. I circled around the side and joined everybody else.

“Do we have to carry our things much farther?” Samantha asked.

“Not far,” Vladimir said, pointing toward a large house.

I’d stopped the van almost directly in front of it. The house looked really fancy. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. We grabbed our bags. All I wanted to do was unpack and take a bath. It wasn’t just that I wanted to get clean. I also needed a door that would lock with me on one side and Nick and the rest of the world on the other. Maybe since there were only four of us I’d even have my own bathroom.

“This is some place,” Nick said. “It certainly doesn’t look like a shack.”

That last comment was aimed at me. This was one of the few times in my life that I was glad Nick was right and I was wrong.

“It is a big, new house,” Vladimir said.

“Was it built just for the campers?” Samantha asked.

“Campers?” Vladimir asked.

“For us,” I said. “The kids who are coming to stay here.”

“Not for you. For the owners.”

“So we’re not staying there?” I questioned, stating the obvious.

“Nyet … um, no. You stay — come, follow me.”

We trudged behind him. My bags seemed to be gaining weight with each step. My only consolation was that while it was hard for me, it was twice as hard for Samantha with her two big suitcases. Hopefully we didn’t have to go much farther.

Vladimir led us through the clearing and onto another path leading off to the side. At the end I could see another building. It wasn’t fancy or new. It looked sort of like a cottage, which was what I’d expected, anyway. It wasn’t big, but it was kind of cute.

“So this is it,” I said.

“Nyet. This is where I sleep. You sleep there,” he said, pointing toward the end of the clearing. There were three buildings. As we got closer, I could see that they weren’t just little, but run-down. One even had a broken window, a piece of cardboard replacing the pane of glass.

“Come, look,” Vladimir said as he stepped up onto the little wooden porch of the middle of the three buildings. It seemed to sag under his weight. Vladimir opened the front door, and it squeaked loudly. He entered, with Nick, Samantha and Daniel following. I wasn’t sure if this little building could hold five of us and all our luggage, but there was no way I was waiting outside.

The inside was tiny but neat. There were two sets of bunk beds on opposite walls. Between them were two dressers, a little table and three chairs tucked underneath.

“You stay here,” Vladimir said.

“All of us?” Samantha asked.

“Four kids, four beds,” he answered.

“But what about the other two cabins? Couldn’t somebody else sleep in one of those?” I questioned.

“Not ready yet.”

“You mean they need the beds made, or to be dusted or something? I could do that,” I volunteered.

“Needs more than the bed made. They need windows replaced or roof fixed to not leak when it rains,” Vladimir said. “I will fix before more kids come, but not now.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Danny said. “We’re not going to be spending much time in here, anyway.”

“He’s right,” Nick agreed. “Besides, all that’s really important is that I get the top bunk!” Nick put a dirty foot on the lower bunk and heaved himself onto the top bed.

“I got the other!” Danny screamed. He threw his bag onto the top of the second set of beds, then quickly climbed up to join it.

“I don’t care which bed I’m in,” I said as I plopped onto the bed beneath Nick.

“Neither do I,” Samantha agreed.

That was good, because there was only one bed left.

“I have to go to the washroom,” Samantha said. “Where is it?”

Vladimir pointed out the door. “Go to side and around back. You will find in the forest.”

“The bathroom is outside?” Samantha gasped.

“Not outside,” Vladimir said. “In the building. Little building.”

“It’s an outhouse?” Nick asked in disbelief.

“Not out of house. In little building. Not bad. I used it for years.”

“Your place doesn’t have a toilet, either?”

“There is a toilet where I live now,” Vladimir answered. “I lived here for over three years. When new boss build the new house, I get the old house of boss.”

“That was nice of your boss,” I said.

Vladimir snorted. “Old boss was nice. New boss is the son of the old boss.”

“What happened to the father?” I asked, although I was pretty sure what the answer was going to be. “Did he retire?”

“Not retire. Dead.”

“I … I’m sorry.”

“I am sorry, too,” said Vladimir. “Old boss was a nice man. Good man. He knew much about animals. He loved animals like family.”

“I guess it was lucky his family, his son, felt the same way,” I said.

Vladimir looked confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, I just figured that since he took over the park, he must like animals a lot, too.”

Vladimir didn’t answer. He had a look on his face that was … different.

“How long since the father died?” Samantha asked, ending the silence.

“He died last summer. Almost twelve months ago.”

“And did you know him for long?”

“He sponsored me to come from Russia. For three years we worked together. Always together.”

“You must have gotten to know him pretty well,” I said.

“Yes, I knew him very well.” He paused. “Enough talk. Vladimir has work to do. Unpack and then you come.”

Nick jumped down from the bunk bed. He pulled open the top drawer of the dresser and, in one motion, grabbed his bag, unsnapped it, turned it upside down and dumped the contents into the drawer. “I’m unpacked, so I can come now.”

“I can unpack later,” Danny added.

“So can I!” Samantha piped in.

Vladimir chuckled. “And you, big girl Sarah?”

Part of me really liked the idea of them all going away and letting me have at least a few minutes on my own, but what the heck. “I can unpack later, too.”