It was a small, concrete space reminiscent of the zoos of old, the ones where the animals slept on bare stone and were little more than prisoners of man’s eternal war against the natural world. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all designed to be easily hosed down, and there was a drain in the middle of the room, making it clear that the hosing happened on a fairly regular basis. In addition to the entrance and the broad, portcullis-like barrier that separated the feeding room from the open enclosures, there was a narrow, solid metal door set deep into one wall. In case something went wrong during a feeding, the keeper was to retreat into the tiny built-in “panic room,” giving time for the other keepers to run for help.
The blood trail led to the panic room door.
Cautiously, I approached the closed door. When I was close enough, I whispered, “Shelby? Are you in there?”
“Alex?” There was no mistaking the relief, or the pain, in her voice. “Is that really you?”
“If not, I was replaced so long ago that it doesn’t make any functional difference,” I said, which may not have been the most reassuring answer possible. I was too worried about her to think straight. “Can you open the door?”
She laughed a little, unsteadily. “No. It’s not meant to be opened from the inside. I wasn’t thinking too clearly when I ran in here.”
“Okay. Can I open the door, or will you shoot me if I try?”
“Are you sure you’re Alex?”
“Believe me, no one else is going to claim my family.”
This time, her laughter was a little more sincere. “All right. Yes, you can open the door.”
“Thank you.” After one last glance back to make sure that no one was sneaking up on me, I holstered my gun and opened the panic room door. Shelby, who had been crammed into the small space with little room to move, or even turn around, tumbled out. I managed to catch her before she could hit the floor. She cried out—a small sound, quickly swallowed, but that was enough to tell me that the blood was definitely hers. “Shelby?”
“It’s nothing.” She paused before laughing unsteadily. “All right, it’s not nothing, but it’s not that bad. Let me up.”
I let go of her, and she straightened, pulling away from me. The motion revealed the blood soaking into her khaki top, turning it a plummy purple. “Shelby . . .”
“No, really, it’s nothing. Look.” She pulled up the bottom of her shirt, revealing a cut that slashed across her ribs, deep enough that it was going to need stitches. It was surrounded by a thick crust of dried blood. “Hurts like nobody’s business, but it’s not going to kill me.”
“What happened?”
“I barely believe it, and I’m the one who got stabbed,” she said, pulling her shirt back down. She shook her head slowly, confusion written plainly across her face. “It was Lloyd.”
“Lloyd? The security guard?”
Shelby nodded. “The same. He saw me checking the bushes outside the cat house. Came over to ask what I was doing here when the zoo was closed, and I said I’d dropped my wallet in the bushes the day before, and that I was trying to find it. He offered to take me back to the office to check the lost and found, and I would have gone with him so that I didn’t seem suspicious, but . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“But what?” I prompted.
“But when he saw that I was wearing glasses, his whole face changed. He didn’t look like Lloyd. He looked like a stranger—an angry stranger, who wanted to hurt me. He asked whether I’d always worn glasses, and I said no, they were new. I should have pretended, I should have said I wore contacts for work, but I wasn’t thinking. I was just reacting. As soon as I said that . . .” Shelby paused again before looking up, meeting my eyes, and saying, “He said he wasn’t going to let me stop him. That he’d always liked me, but that he couldn’t let that change anything. And then he drew a knife. On me!”
“What kind of knife?”
“A stupid big one, that’s what kind of knife,” snapped Shelby, looking annoyed. “Does it matter what kind of knife? He pulled it out of his coat and he stabbed at me in broad daylight, where anybody could have seen.”
“That means he wasn’t worried about getting caught,” I said. “That’s a bad sign.”
“You think?” Shelby shook her head. “I turned and ran into the cat house. I figured he might not follow me inside. The cats get a little unhappy when people fight in front of them, and they were already all up in arms about something.”
“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.