Zoo (8 page)

And the two people that come next are not
James either. In fact, they aren’t even men. They are two beautiful
girls with long brown hair, hourglass figures, and blue cotton
dresses. They cling to one another as they faithfully follow their
leader. They must be sisters.

The man that appeared before them puts on a
brave face. He is a sturdy man with ebony skin. He’s dressed in
cowboy attire like James wears. He guards the women behind him as
they duck into the next building. I can see flickers of them as
they pass the windows and search the various rooms of the wooden
shack. They must not have found anything of interest because they
reappear within seconds.

James must have gotten a mate as well. A
tinge of jealousy passes through me.

I watch the man and two women explore their
dusty enclosure to pass the long morning. They don’t do anything
interesting, but the public seems to enjoy watching them as much as
I do. They crowd around the glass and whisper to one another. Some
of them point and others stand on their tiptoes to get a better
look. I decide the only good thing about the newcomers is that they
will draw attention away from our enclosure, at least until the
newness wears off.

One of the women, the smaller of the two,
cries on her sister’s shoulder midday. I feel sad for her. This is
a horrible fate. The sturdy man shoos them into one of the
buildings so they don’t get in trouble. The crowds disperse when
they no longer have anything to look at in that enclosure. I no
longer have anything to watch either, so my gaze drifts to the
public and all their amazing clothing choices.

There is a woman dressed like Marilyn
Monroe, with blonde hair and a white halter dress. Beside her, her
friend is dressed like Madonna; Madonna from the 80’s with pointy
cone-boobs and too much jewelry (I’ve seen photos). There is a
large group of children who are all dressed in what I would call
“regular” school uniforms. They are wearing plaid shorts and skirts
with white polo shirts. I wonder if they are mimicking styles from
my era or if this is normal attire for them today.

I’m so engrossed in the public’s fashion
choices that I almost miss him today. He’s sitting on the same
bench he was standing on during the protest. He’s hidden behind the
group of school children, and I only see flashes of him as the
children move about.

Once the school children eventually move on,
I have a full view of the tanned man. He’s dressed in a grass skirt
like the first day I saw him, and he’s wearing a braided crown
around his head made of some type of long, green grasses. He looks
exactly the same as the first day with only one difference.

KALE

The man on the bench isn’t staring at me
today. When I follow his gaze behind me, I discover that he is
staring at Kale, and Kale is staring back.

I march over to Kale, stopping just short of
him. I didn’t realize when he was lying on the ground last night
how fit he is. His body is muscular, but he isn’t bulky even though
he stands under six-feet tall. He has a strong jaw, almond shaped
eyes, and a wide, but not too wide nose. And he smells like our
waterfall, mixed with the scent of beach air and sand. I take a
step back.

“
Who is that?” I demand,
drawing myself back into the present.

Kale looks down at me. “How should I know?”
he answers.

“
Well, you look like you
know him. Why are you staring at him?”

“
I could ask you the same
question,” he fires back.

I turn and look back out to the public
walkway. He is still there watching us. Smiling.

Smiling?!

“
Look at all these people.
Maybe he’s just some freak that wants to be like me,” Kale jokes.
Then he admits, “He does looks familiar though. I’m just not sure
why.”

I don’t tell him I have a similar feeling
about the stranger. I press him further, “Familiar how?”

Kale shrugs his shoulders, and then marches
toward the glass wall. He curls his strong hand into a fist and
raises it above his head.

“
I wouldn’t do that,” I
warn him. “You’re going to get in trouble.”

Boom. Boom.
Boom
. He brings his fist down hard against
the glass three times. “Who are you? Can you get us out of here?”
Kale yells at the man on the bench. “You can hear me, can’t you?
Help us!”

The man taps his
wristwatch and walks away just as the Keepers come to remove Kale
from our enclosure for disturbing the public. Struggling against
the Keepers is useless, and he finds this out quickly after they
inject him with something that paralyzes his body but keeps him
conscious.
That’s new.

It takes both men to drag Kale toward the
rock wall where they will vanish, delivering Kale to Dick for a
scolding. I follow them toward the back of the enclosure, hoping to
get a chance at escape. I need to make use of every opportunity
available.

I’m not worried about him, because I know
he’s not getting any real kind of punishment. But I use it as an
excuse to stay next to them. I reprimand to Kale for his actions,
“I tried to warn you. You can’t interact with the public. They
warned you about that, right?” Then I give him a thumbs up to let
him know it’ll be okay.

Walking as close as possible to the Keepers
and their disobedient animal, I try to slip through the portal with
them. I don’t make it through. I smack right into the rock wall, my
knee hitting first and then my stomach. “Shit!” I screech.

Stupid magical
portals.
Well, I guess I better quit
standing around and let the others know about Kale so they don’t
wonder where he is later. Actually, they’re probably too busy
making out to notice. No, I should still tell them. I smooth out my
itchy dress and tuck my hair behind my ears. Smacking into the wall
ruffled my appearance a little.

It takes no time at all to find Janice and
Greg hanging out by the waterfall. She is showing her companion how
to fill up an animal skin with drinking water. As I watch them, I’m
making a note to myself that we’ll all have to arrange some kind of
shower schedule. The last thing I want is for one of these guys to
see me naked.

They don’t hear me approach and interrupting
them is easy since I’m still angry. “Hey. The Keepers just took
Kale.”

Janice is aghast. “Oh no. What did he
do?”

“
He was banging on the
glass like an idiot. I told him not to.” I shrug, showing them that
it was his fault and his alone.

“
What happens the first
time you get in trouble?” Greg asks.

“
Nothing. It’s a joke,” I
answer.

“
And what happens the
second time?”

It’s Janice that answers, because I don’t
have one. “We don’t know. The first warning was enough to keep us
from finding out. It doesn’t sound good though.”

Kale is returned to our enclosure three
hours later.

WELCOME BACK TO PRISON

I’m sitting on the rock wall, listening to
Auntie Josephine perform for the crowds and keeping an eye on
James’ enclosure, when Kale approaches. He sits next to me, leaving
only a few inches between us. I hold my ground even though my
natural reaction is to scoot away from him. He still smells good,
like summer.

“
You been for your first
warning yet?” he asks me. His accent is different than my southern
one, still American though. If I had to describe it, I’d say he
doesn’t really have an accent. His manner of speaking is relaxed,
as is his body language. He oozes coolness but not
arrogance.

“
Yeah,” I answer. “Haven’t
worked myself up for the second one yet. I’m sure it’ll happen
eventually though. Gotta get outta here, ya know?”

He nods. “Yeah.”

There is a quiet between us, but it’s not
uncomfortable or awkward. I dislike him for who he is not and what
he is supposed to mean for my future. But I manage to put that
aside for just a few minutes as we sit here being two miserable
souls. We are alone in our thoughts, but together in our
circumstances.

Kale breaks the silence first by saying,
“Hey, that guy’s a total dick, right?”

I snort and quickly cover my mouth and nose
with my hands, embarrassed. I can’t believe he used the same word
to describe him as I did. “Dick is exactly the right word,” I agree
with him.

“
Where are you from?” he
asks me, trying to keep up the conversation.

“
Baton Rouge, Louisiana.
You?”

A smile plays across his full lips as he
thinks about it. “Hawaii. The Big Island. Man, I miss it already.
The surfing is amazing.” He rubs the right side of his shaved head
and adds, “That’s how they got me. Cracked my head open on some
rocks. I guess I drowned.”

“
Huh. I applied to the
University of Hawaii. So much for that.” I say more to myself than
to Kale. Missing out on college and moving away were huge changes
that I’d never get to experience. Just as well, I’m way too pale to
live somewhere that tropical. I get burned after ten minutes in the
sun.

Straightening up and
shifting a little on our hard seat, I decide to tell him about my
car accident. When I finish, I catch myself wondering if he’s from
a similar era. “Wait. What time are you from? I mean, when were you
taken?” I ask, because he may not even know what a car is. No,
that’s not right. Kale surfs. I try to think if I know about how
long ago they invented surfboards. I
don’t
know the answer to that, but I
do realize that he speaks like he has to be from around my time. I
would’ve acknowledged that something was off—in the way he talks—if
it was different than the way I talk.

He answers, “2013. You?”

“
Yeah, me too . . . 2013.
I was born in 1995. When were you born?”

“
1993. Why are you asking,
aren’t we all from the same time?” he asks while looking into my
eyes, obviously confused and searching for answers.

“
No. Janice was taken in
1978, and I heard Greg tell her he was taken in 1955. Auntie
Josephine next door was taken like in the mid 1800’s from England,
and James across the way was taken in 1876 from Colorado.” I leave
out the cavemen next door, because I’ve been too scared to look
back over the rock wall at their enclosure, so I don’t really know
anything about them.

“
Hmm. Well, I thought at
least the people that share a space would be from the same time. It
just makes more sense.” He runs his hand along his jaw and stares
up at the sky beyond the glass dome. “So when they take us, what do
you think they leave behind for our families? Some kind of
artificial body?”

That was definitely a good question and one
that I had asked Dick. “That’s exactly what they do. They grow them
and then replace us with them. Freaky, right?”

“
Well, if they can time
travel, they can probably do a lot of other things we’d never
imagine could be possible. So, that doesn’t surprise me,” he
answers resolutely.

The thought still makes me uneasy and so
does the fact that I’m actually enjoying talking with Kale.

REMINISCING IS DANGEROUS

The crowds are thin today so there’s not
much in the way of entertainment. Janice and Greg are in the
vegetable garden chatting, and Kale is sitting on a boulder looking
into the cavemen’s enclosure. He keeps laughing so they must be
doing something amusing. Perhaps they’re still trying to start that
fire Janice was telling me about.

I’m lying on the hard ground, staring at the
cloudless sky, wishing I could breathe the fresh air that blows the
manicured trees from side-to-side. Auntie Josephine’s choice of
song has a calming tone and puts me into a state of repose. It’s
probably a lullaby, one I’ve never heard. My mind drifts and
shuffles through memories of my past life. One of my favorite
memories is when I was eight years old. It’s one of those magical
movie moments that make it into the montage.

My parents and I were on vacation in Florida
somewhere. I was so happy that day. We’d had pancakes for breakfast
at the local diner—my favorite. Later on in the day, I was promised
a trip to the aquarium. Before our trip out, we took a stroll on
the beach. I splashed in the tiny waves and picked up shells along
the way. The sand was powdery and warm, and it squished between my
toes as I walked through it. At one point, I stopped and laid down
in it, like I’m lying now, looking up at the cloudless sky.

My mother and father came to lie next to me,
one on each side. I giggled as we made “snow” angels in the sand.
We brushed our arms and legs back and forth over the fine grains.
When we finished, I kneeled in the middle of my angel and drew
feathers in the wings and a halo above her head.

My mother stood before them and said, while
pointing at each angel, “Look, the angels of Love, Hope, and
Faith.” Mine was the angel of Hope. She fingered in the names below
each angel and then pulled out her camera from her pink beach bag.
“I have to take a picture,” she said excitedly.

That picture is still hanging over the
fireplace. Well, probably not now since that was over 200 years
ago.

My parents are
dead
, I realize. A tear slides from the
corner of my eye, down my face, and eventually pools in my ear. I
squeeze my eyes shut tight, fighting more of them off. It doesn’t
help. I roll onto my side, curling into a ball as I mourn the
deaths of my parents, my family, my friends, and everything
that
was
that is
no longer.