By then, the rain had stopped. Yo Yo took her home with him. Sarah welcomed her. She told Sarah her troubles.
Quite late, Melissa returned to the hutchery. She paused outside Blackheart’s hutch and put a spell on him. But her spells never worked. The only way to save her daddy was to get another surgeon.
In her own hutch, thoroughly miserable, she kicked off her shoes, gazed at her mummy’s photograph, asked her what else she could do.
Her mummy didn’t say a word.
She thought about menageries, Garrity Two, his son.
Maybe there was a way to help her daddy and fix the Garritys!
She slipped on shoes again, went down to the streets. The moon shone brightly. She was soon on the snaky road up to the Garrity house. Coming out of the wood, she saw that it was lit up like they were having a party. Great. They’d be too busy to notice her.
She went around the house to the menagerie.
She keyed in the door-opening code, 683597213. Lights came on inside as the door opened. There was no alarm.
She went to the control console in the main hall.
She punched in the access code. The animal menu came up, SELECT.
Before selecting anything, she had to have a peek at the tiger.
He was just like before, silky fur, serene smile, beautiful. The boy’s name for him was all wrong. She gave him a new one. Big Puss.
Back at the console, she selected RABBIT TWO, then, REVIVE.
RABBIT THREE. REVIVE. RABBIT FOUR. REVIVE. Going on with it, she heard the tubes and wires pull out of the animals, heard them bouncing in their cages like frisky Henriettas.
Presently she’d revived all rabbits and guinea pigs. It was time for bigger animals. BABOONS. REVIVE. MONKEYS. REVIVE. ARMADILLO. REVIVE. ORYX. REVIVE.
The livened-up oryx skittered up and down in his cage like he had a pogo stick on each leg. The rest of the animals chattered, gossiped, sang. Melissa caught some monkey talk, all joy and celebration. Nice. But, damn, they were noisy.
Now only the tiger and the gorilla were left.
Melissa wasn’t sure about reviving the gorilla.
The managerie hubbub was getting to be too much. She couldn’t think. Using every language she knew, she tried to get a bit of quiet. She was ignored.
Revive Big Puss and decide later about the gorilla? With all this noise, Big Puss wouldn’t be able to hear what she wanted to tell him. She and he needed quiet time together.
So Melissa went to the menagerie door and wedged it open, then back to the console. She selected from the menu, RABBIT ONE, CAGE OPEN. The cage opened, but nothing happened. Of course. The Garrity kid had already dealt with Rabbit One. On, then. RABBIT TWO, CAGE OPEN. This time the bunny hopped out.
RABBIT THREE—and so forth.
Soon all the revived animals were out of their cages blinking, snorting, screaming. She told them, run outside in the moonlight, scatter, hide. Only the armadillo and the oryx didn’t do as they were told. The armadillo wanted to explore every corner of the menagerie before he went, but eventually she was rid of him. The oryx, prancing up and down on his pogo-legs, didn’t understand cow-talk, or pretended he didn’t. She had to drive him out.
With all the animals gone, Melissa again wondered about the gorilla. It wasn’t fair to leave him in his cage when everybody else was free. Was it?
She input GORILLA. REVIVE.
Cardiac Emperor came alive, stood erect, shoved his ugly face up against the glass of his cage, peered at Melissa, scowled. In monkey talk, Melissa said, “Be a good gorilla, and I’ll let you out.”
Apparently he didn’t understand monkey talk. He roared at her in some language of his own, jumped up and down, did a somersault, towered up on his hind legs, and banged his chest.
She daren’t let him out.
It was time for Big Puss. TIGER. REVIVE.
Melissa was at Big Puss’s cage in time to see his wires and tubes disconnect. He staggered up on four tottery legs, swished his tail.
The gorilla snarled and roared.
Big Puss snarled and roared. Spitting and slobbering, he marched up and down his cage, whipping his tail from side to side.
In cat talk, Melissa said: “Calm down, Big Puss.” Now she saw how big he was, she was afraid cat talk wouldn’t work.
Wonder of wonders, it did.
Big Puss calmed down, said he’d be good, it was nice to be among friends. He sat on his rear like a well-trained dog, his head high, his eyes blinking at Melissa.
The gorilla was on a rampage, hurling himself against the glass wall of his cage.
Melissa ran back to the console. TIGER, CAGE OPEN.
In leisurely fashion, Big Puss strolled toward her. She urged him to get a move on, but he wouldn’t. At the console, he sat down. His head was still higher than hers. “What’s the hurry?” he asked.
Melissa gestured toward the rampaging gorilla.
“Don’t worry, I can take care of him,” Big Puss yawned. “Why did you break into my nap? I was having such a nice dream.”
Melissa told him not to grumble.
“But I’m hungry. Tigers always grumble when they’re hungry.” He licked his lips with his long tongue.
Melissa could see more of his sharp teeth than she liked. “Maybe we can find you something to eat. Should we let out the gorilla?”
“I remember a gorilla once, when I was a cub—” Big Puss began a long rambling story for which they had no time. She interrupted. “Let’s just leave the gorilla, and go.”
His swishing tail told her he didn’t like interruptions, but he let her lead him toward the menagerie door. Halfway there, there was a terrible clatter of shattering glass. In a flash, she was on Big Puss’s back telling him, get outside and away as fast as possible.
Outside, there was still bright moonlight. As Big Puss carried Melissa by the corner of the Garrity house, she looked back, saw a monstrous gorilla shadow on the white wall of the menagerie.
Faster, faster, she urged Big Puss.
Big Puss speeded up. She could barely hold on. He galloped around the Garrity house, across the lawns, into the woods, and down the snaky road to Gimbel City.
There were no people on Gimbel City’s streets at that hour of the morning. A pity. Melissa, on Big Puss, felt like a princess, and would have liked to have been seen. Slowed down now, Big Puss had his tail up and curved over her like a canopy.
Anyway, she’d fixed the Garrity kid! No long life for him, with his animals gone. Let his father run that through his card shredder and see how he liked it!
Now the next thing. This wasn’t for revenge, it was for her daddy. On the way down, she’d told Big Puss what it was. He’d said he’d be delighted to do what was needed.
In minutes, they were at the hutchery. Melissa slipped off the tiger, said thanks for the ride, and keyed the hutchery door open. Big Puss purred. They went inside, rode an elevator up to her floor. She settled Big Puss in the corridor, a bit away from her hutch.
She rang Blackheart’s doorbell. After three rings, the door opened. Blackheart, in a long white nightshirt, leered. “Hello, Melissa. Won’t you come in?”
She didn’t move.
Big Puss did. Just as instructed, he charged along the corridor, reared up, placed friendly paws on Blackheart’s shoulders, and shoved him back into the hutch.
Melissa tripped the latch and closed the hutch door, leaving them alone to discuss whatever tigers and surgeons might want to discuss, like, say, Big Puss’s surgical skills.
In her hutch, she toyed with the entertainment center, couldn’t find anything interesting, picked up a book, couldn’t concentrate.
When the clock by her mummy’s photograph said four, she decided it was time to find out if Big Puss and Dr. Blackheart had gotten close to one another. She left her hutch, flitted across the corridor, and opened the Blackheart door.