A Day at the Zoo

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Horror/Thriller

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Ever not want to do something, but the whole family is dead-set on doing it anyway? Ever had that whole family done the exact opposite of what you suggest, only to complain that it didn’t go as they had planned? This is one of those stories.
It’s not a story that ends in a smug I told you so. This story…this story doesn’t end in pride or shallow accolade. No, this story ends in tragedy — it ends in devastation. It’s not what I wanted. My objections weren’t justified. I would give anything to have it all back; maybe you would too…
“Come on, gotta hurry if we want to miss traffic!”
Teenage angst beseeched, and I rolled my eyes, “I could miss traffic just fine, if you weren’t making me go to this stupid family reunion… didn’t we just see everybody at Christmas?”
Of course, she tried, she always tried, “They won’t all be around forever — it’ll be fun, if you let it…” and she wasn’t wrong. Ever watch those old cartoons where everyone lives in a mushroom or a tree stump — all the maternal villagers always have button noses and round rumps? That was her. That was my mom.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes again, mumbling some concession under my breath. No point in arguing. This battle wouldn’t be won — not that that would stop me from grumbling and sharing my misery along the way. We piled into the car, my headphones loud enough to drown them out.
Three hours later, I have to pee, and we’ve been at a standstill for two hours, “We have not moved for two hours — can we just, go home?” I knew the answer, so neither of them bothered to respond, “Oh, okay, cool, I’ll just piss myself in the backseat.”
The brilliant idea was Aunt Gwen’s — “why don’t we all just enjoy the sunset on the tram experience, we can grab a late dinner before we all head back…” because the five hours in the car on the way here, three hours visiting every possible attraction, isn’t enough. Of course, my objection went ignored: “oh, look, there’s a package deal!”
“You guys do know that lions hunt at night, right….” it was like I never spoke; they coupled up and chattered about whatever; I wonder how long it took them to notice I was gone from the group. I could leave, of course — nowhere to go, so I wandered and checked locks. Eventually, I climbed up on the roof over the snake exhibit, pulled out a joint, and laid back with my earbuds. As the smoke filled my lungs, I thought about how, in two years, the world would be my oyster.
What the fuck was wrong with me?
Around the corner from the silverback exhibit, a clean-cut man in an attendant uniform stepped out of the control room and walked toward the big cats tram station. The zoo had recently opened this new interactive experience. Small groups stepped into a giant cage on wheels that was driven through the lion exhibit several times throughout the day, with the final run at sunset. No surprise, it was the most exclusive ticket.
I could see them from the roof. Thirty people lined up outside the big cat exhibit — at feeding time — fifteen square acres of big cats territory. Everyone in line was excited about something. There was a bridal shower of twenty-somethings screeching about being a pride, a couple in their seventies subtly flirting, and a couple in the back arguing about something — she looked annoyed, and he looked pissed.
When the gates opened, the guides walked out and gathered everyone into groups. Each guide reviewed relative safety measures, locked them in their cages, and drove into the exhibit.
My family fit into two of those cages.
I wandered around the exhibits until I thought it was time to leave, went and waited by the entrance to the big cats. After a while, I started to wonder if they had gone home, and then something in the wind shifted. My guts swished with an odd sense of vulnerability. The hair on my arms and the back of my neck stood on end; it felt like it does just before a storm, but it was dark, and I couldn’t see much past the security lights. I took my earbuds out and let my ears tune into my surroundings. The breeze was damp, and I could hear a faint rumble under the rustling of trees. I didn’t feel right.
“Hey, kid, you can’t be here,” a sort of chunky security guard buzzing around on a segue, “the zoo closed two hours ago.”
“I’m waiting on my family. They went in on the sunset tram,” of course he cut me off, but with good reason. “That tram should have been back by now, how long you been standing here?” I guessed and said forty-five minutes, and that’s when he called the control room over the little walkie on his shoulder.
A scream pierced through the storm, and the tram rammed through the enclosure’s gate, pinning the guard between the grill and the exhibit sign. There was a large cat in the cab of the tram, her fangs sunk deep into the driver’s temple. The screams grew louder from inside the enclosure, and the contorted cages of screaming people kept three other lionesses preoccupied. I made my way around to the guard station, finding it empty but fortuitously unlocked. I called emergency service and hardly uttered help before my phone died.
This little security hut looks like a decorative art installation outside the booth; from inside, it’s more of an all-access viewing pass for the zoo. I dug through the lockers looking for anything to defend myself. Of course, there were only non-lethal options. Tranquilizer darts, mace — the fuck is this gonna do? On the monitors, I could see the tram cages surrounded by cats, and I could see the security guard’s head bobbling around in delirium. That poor driver was torn in a tug-of-war by three cats, taking the time to appreciate their bounty. I could see one of the girls from the bridal shower sobbing hysterically in the back of her cage, just out of reach. A couple of the others showed some signs of life, but none were ambulatory.
I sat and watched for a while, frozen in panic and fear. What the fuck just happened? I tried to replay the day, replay the moment that a tram full of dead and dying patrons, covered in lions, busted in like the Kool-Aid man — I couldn’t take my eyes off the girl. She was calmer now, somehow, like she had regained some sense of self-preservation. I wondered what she was thinking about; was it the wedding — a bargain with her creator? The cats didn’t seem to care. They chewed on their pieces of a person, tearing off limbs and cleaning the bones.
A young male lion sauntered in and helped himself to a piece of someone. The volume was off, but his face seemed to contort in agony on the screen. He trotted off deeper into the zoo, the alpha female running him off to protect their feast. The door to the security booth slammed open, and three people tripped over each other, pouring through the door. Their abrupt entrance threw me off balance, and I toppled out of my seat—the couple that was arguing and an androgynous beauty that went by the name Jael.
Jael was quiet, in a methodic sort of way. They watched the monitors and eyed the couple, obvious tension between them. The guy, Archer, was a bit of a brute — husky, overbearing — his girlfriend was rattled, catatonic. He handed her a mace, taking one of the handguns for himself, “you freaks coming?” Neither of us answered; Kylie dropped to her knees and let out a guttural scream, every molecule of oxygen leaving her lungs between inhales, “man, whatever,” he yanked the mace from her grip and walked out the door. On the monitor, the lions poised alert.
One by one, the lionesses left to track some curious sound or scent. Jael followed them with the cameras, leaving one monitor on the cages. Over the loudspeaker, I tried to tell the girl to come to the booth. She looked around, shrugging her shoulders at a loss. On one of the other monitors, Archer could be seen jogging toward the silverback exhibit, the young male lion stalking him from close behind. There was no sign of the females. Back at the cages, the girl climbed toward the cage door. The blood made the metal slick, but she could unlock and lift the warped metal frame. She snaked her body through the pile of flesh and steel, hesitating as her torso breached. My eyes darted across the screen, scouring for what she could be seeing — naively hoping it wasn’t what I knew it was.
Only three of the lionesses had ventured off to investigate; one had hung back and made a snack out of the security guard’s head. Her tongue licked the remnants of grey matter from the cranial cavity until her eyes locked on the fresh prey that had just crawled out of the mound of dead flesh.
When she pounced, it was quick and calculated — instinctual—her massive, powerful bite clamping down on the throat of prey that was too easy to catch.
Kylie started screaming again until she ran out of energy and collapsed onto the floor. I sat on the medic cot in the back of the booth. The girl twitched in the lion’s mouth; the lion lapping at the geyser of blood gushing from her throat.
There was soft rustling against the outside of the door, like something rubbing and pushing against it. Jael brought it up on the cameras. Two lions were pacing around the booth, rubbing their bodies against the edges around the door, drawn by Kylie’s screams. I could hear them sniffing under the door, vocalizing to their pride.


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