Zoo (16 page)

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.

I lose my footing when a rock gives way
under my foot. It causes me to slide on my ass down the cliffside.
I hold tight to my boot of water, as I slip several feet before I’m
able to stop myself. Rocks scrape and scratch my skin as I bump,
bump, bump my way down. My dress has rolled up to the middle of my
back. The cord stops it from going any higher. The sides of my butt
and thighs are exposed, and I’ve gotten the worst wedgie ever.
Thankfully, I was able to hold the front of my sack dress in
place.

I yank my clothing back into place and
cringe as it touches my raw flesh.

“
Are you okay?” Kale and
James ask in unison, as they both hurry over to the large boulder
I’m standing on. Both guys thrust out their hands in assistance. I
take James’ offering, because I know I should. I’ve built somewhat
of a relationship with him over the months, and I think he thinks
we are together.

I nod yes, while biting my lower lip. I’ve
injured my backside, but to what degree I have no idea. Someone
needs to look, but I don’t want it to be James or Kale. I don’t
really want it to be Victoria either, but she’s the only female
here. Reluctantly, I ask, “Victoria, can you please come here. I
need you to take a look.” I look to the guys as she takes her time
coming to my aid. “Would y’all mind turning around so she can see
how bad it is?”

Kale and James comply and face away from
us.

It’s beyond embarrassing, but I lift the
back of my dress none-the-less. “How bad is it?” I ask Victoria. I
keep my eyes shut tight, while waiting for her to give the
verdict.

“
Scraped up pretty good
from your legs up to your lower back, but no big gashes.” She tugs
on my dress as she’s deciding how to help me further. “Here I’ll
rinse it. Give me your water. I’m not wasting mine on your fanny,”
she says.

I cringe as she pours water over my fresh
injuries. “Whoa! Don’t use all of my water.” I try to stop her from
using it all. She shoves the boot, holding the little remains of my
water, into my chest and walks over to Kale’s side. “Thank you,” I
tell her.

She gives me a snarky half-smile as her
response.

My panties are now wet from the water
Victoria poured down my back. The dampness soaks into the back of
my dress as I roll it back down. It probably looks like I peed on
myself. I shrug my shoulders because there’s not really anything I
can do about it, and then I let them know it’s okay to continue our
trek into the valley. “Let’s keep going. We’re exposed out here,” I
say to my three companions.

James and Victoria slowly set off down the
cliffside again, but Kale waits for me. He asks me, “Are you sure
you’re okay? Can I do anything to help you?”

“
Well, unless you can
carry me, no, not really. But thanks for asking.” I offer him a
small smile.

“
I can try,” he says as he
goes to set the water filled boots on the boulder.

“
No. I was kidding.” Man,
Kale’s so nice to me. He’s so nice to Victoria too. I guess he
really is just a nice person. I honestly thought he was trying to
get me to comply with the Keepers demands about mating. “Thanks for
offering,” I say. Thanking him makes me instantly think about
James, and the fact that
he’s
not standing here with me. I ask myself:
Did I get too caught up in James’ good looks? I
know I’m hardheaded. Is this me being hardheaded, trying to follow
through with something that I’ve spent so much time on?

Before heading down, I say to Kale, “Thank
you for being such a good friend. I’m really glad that you’re here.
Well, not that you had to leave a safer zoo, but . . . whatever . .
. you know what I mean. Come on.” Kale smiles at me and I turn
bright red. Trying to escape the somewhat awkward admission, I set
off after our two western companions.

As I once again descend
the cliff, I am extra-super-duper careful.
And oh, this sucks.
I bite my lip to
keep from crying as pain shoots up my legs and back with every step
I take. We have to climb over some humongous boulders toward the
base of the valley. To get around them requires that we sort of sit
and scoot down the side of them.

I can’t keep my pain contained any longer. I
have to let out a groan that seems so loud in my own head that I
almost don’t hear the gunfire.

RUN LIKE YOU ARE BEING CHASED BY A CRAZY
CLOWN CARRYING A KNIFE . . . EXCEPT IT’S REALLY A COWBOY WITH A
GUN

I’ve always had a “totally normal” fear of
clowns, but now I’m starting to fear a lot of other things,
including having a gun aimed at me. Our path down into the valley
leads us conveniently toward James’ preferred destination of the
western town. We seem to have made our entrance in the midst of a
drunken bar brawl.

A man lies dead in the
middle of the dusty street with buckshot peppering his chest. His
cowboy hat, chap-wearing attacker is now holding his shotgun
shoulder high with the barrel pointing in our direction. All I can
think is:
How in the hell did he get a gun
in here?
This changes everything. Well, it
changes a lot. Not only do we have to worry about getting stolen by
men, fighting for food, traveling without weapons to get water, and
finding somewhere to sleep, we now have to worry about the
possibility of getting shot with a gun. Not good.

We are still a good distance from the
gun-slinging psycho. So when James yells, “Run!” we all haul ass
toward the suburban homes without a second’s hesitation.

The man with the gun is hollering with a
thick country twang, “Hey! You had better get back here with them
fancy boots! I need me some new boots!” He sounds crazy, or maybe
he’s pumped up full of adrenaline from his recent kill—or should I
say murder.

As if that isn’t stressful enough, we find
out what the professor meant about them “getting a better show.” A
passenger train with sides made entirely of glass drops in from
nowhere. It hovers over us, causing us to duck and throw our arms
up over our heads. It makes a sound like the flying motorcycle
thing from the forest. The forced air from the bottom of the
hovering train is pushing my hair this way and that way. It twists
up in a spiral and then whips down in my face. The sting of my hair
lingers on my cheek, but thankfully missed my right eye by just a
few centimeters.

James, being so tall, failed to duck down
far enough. His head barely brushes the bottom of the train, which
sends an electric shock through his body. The jolt throws him to
the ground. Unfortunately, the bow and arrow fly out of James’
hands and skitters across the ground, stopping several feet away.
James lies still. Then he twitches from the currents still flowing
through his helpless body.

“
Kale!” I scream as I
pause beside James.

Kale hands me a boot of
water and then hurries to James’ side. He pulls him to his feet as
best he can. Kale supports James with one arm and carries the other
boot of water with his free hand. Victoria scrambles for our only
weapon, while the gun-crazed cowboy gains on us. We run once again.
The cowboy fires a shot. None of us fall . . .
So,
I figure he must have missed,
and I’m pretty sure he’s drunk by the way he’s stumbling
along.

I whip my head around to see how close he is
to us. Eighty yards give or take. Then, I notice the train is
following us, hovering right behind. The faces of youth are pressed
to the glass, watching with fascination. Adults are pointing and
laughing at our misfortune. I’m so happy that we can provide such
an entertaining show for them.

We fly up the front steps of a porch at the
closest home. It’s a white colonial. I pound on the door but no one
answers. Water is sloshing out of the top of the boots from all my
jostling and running around the home’s porch. We didn’t notice that
the windows were blown out when we reached this house, but now I
look inside the shell that was once a beautiful home. The inside is
completely gutted and partially burned. There’s nothing left here.
I briefly wonder what happened.

“
Go! Go!” I yell to my
companions. “Go to the next house.” As we leave behind the home
that is deceptively appealing from the outside, I notice that it’s
not that way on all sides. One of the back rooms is completely
missing. Black scars eat at the white paint where the house is
still intact, and just below a crispy window are its room’s vomited
contents. Part of a curtain rod, shattered dishes, a few melted
pans, and a frame with no picture litter the ground. All have been
burned to some degree.

The next house is a huge, traditional style
home with yellow siding and green shutters. I hesitate for a
second, wondering if it’s safe after seeing the house next door.
The cowboy hollers something unintelligible behind us. It prompts
me to stop wondering. The door is locked when I try the knob. I
don’t believe it and turn the doorknob over and over with no better
luck. I beat my fists on the smooth surface of the door with all my
might. Someone has to open it. We’re out of options.

The door opens a crack and I scream, “Please
let us in! Please!”

Kale doesn’t wait for an answer. He leans
James against me and then rams his shoulder into the door, forcing
it open. Water sprays up from the boot as he makes impact. We all
push forward after him, each of us slipping on the wet porch as we
make our way inside. I am the last in. I slam the wooden barrier
shut behind me.

There’s a loud pop from the man’s shotgun,
but nothing seems to happen. “Get yerselves out here!” the mad
gunman shouts. “I said I need me some new boots!”

Inside the house is a teenage girl holding a
sleek black handgun. She’s crouched under a window that she slides
open just enough to fit the gun barrel through. “Get off my porch
asshole! You know better than to screw with this house! You won’t
win here!” she yells. Her voice is raspy.

She fires a warning shot, which causes the
man to backpedal off the porch as fast as his scrawny legs will
carry him. He trips on the last step, falls to his knees, and then
quickly scrambles back up to his feet. The crazed cowboy raises his
shotgun over his head in defeat, and with his tail tucked between
his legs, he hurries back toward the western town where he will
still be king in his reign of terror.

“
You left your balls on
the porch, man!” the girl yells after him.

Relief washes over me and I’m sure my
companions as well. I slide down to the floor to catch my breath,
but am interrupted when our savior turns her gun on us and says,
“You have five seconds to get out of my house.”

SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE US A BREAK

The girl holding the handgun is dressed in a
black tank top with black skinny jeans and black combat boots. Her
nose is pierced with a tiny diamond stud. She has jet-black hair
with a brilliant streak of teal running down one side. Her intense
eyes, accentuated by her thick black eyeliner, are the same color
teal as in her hair. Where in the world is she getting eyeliner?
Seriously.

She’s beautiful and scary at the same time.
So it’s no surprise that I flinch when she demands that we leave.
“Out!” she commands.