February (18 page)

I had just started climbing the rocks when I heard people calling out from above. This wasn’t what I wanted—to be spotted by a whole bunch of
people. I ducked down. People were yelling at me, pointing and shouting, but because they were all shouting together, I couldn’t make out what they were actually saying. I pulled my mobile out and checked the time. I couldn’t waste too much time hiding out down there in the bush. I needed to get to the sundial.

I could see people pulling out their mobiles and taking photos of me! It would only be a matter of minutes before my identity was blown. Surely they hadn’t recognised me from such a distance? Didn’t they have better things to do? Like looking at the animals?

Just as I was about to turn all my attention into getting out of there, without a care for who was watching, I saw something that first made my heart drop, then race like hell. Up there on the ground above, in the middle of the shouting crowd and grinning like a hyena, was Sligo’s man, Red Singlet! He must have found someone who’d noticed me getting onto the bus earlier. I searched frantically for another way out.

It looked like I had only one option—trying my luck with that grilled feeding door I’d seen earlier in the wall.

The crowd was going crazy, as if I was some sort of wild animal myself. Maybe someone
had
recognised me, but all I could think of was Red Singlet and how to get away from him and to my meeting. I
had
to get to that meeting! And I had to shake him somehow!

It was the tone of fear in the shouts from the crowds that made me finally take notice of what they were trying to tell me.

Slowly, the words penetrated my mind.

‘Look out!’ someone was calling. ‘Kid! Get out of there! For God’s sake get out of there! There’s a—’

It was the last word I couldn’t quite catch.

Cautiously, I stood up.

And that’s when I saw him in front of me, mere metres away.

I froze and so did he, stopping dead in his tracks, raising his huge head higher to stare at me with merciless yellow eyes—a massive lion, golden brown with a black mane.

From a long way away came the sounds of the crowd that had gathered on the road above the lion’s den, and then it seemed to fade away. I forgot about Red Singlet and the danger he represented. Every fibre, every cell in my body was concentrating on the huge beast standing before me, black-tufted tail swishing to and fro.
The whole world seemed to be reduced to the two of us; that’s all I could see, all I could focus on.

I felt adrenaline flood me with its icy strength—flight or fight. There was no way I could fight this animal; one thump from those great paws and my bones would be crushed. Flight was the only alternative and yet I knew that the minute I turned and ran, the massive predator would do the same. Four legs can outrun two legs any day.

Without taking my eyes off the huge beast, my heart beating hard, sweating all over, I started to back away, one foot after the other. I was trying to fix the lion where he was with my gaze, moving only my feet while I carefully retreated. I knew if I tried to climb back over the wall I’d come over, he would pull me down in a matter of seconds. My only hope was making it to the door in the wall behind me. A sound like thunder made me jump and I was shocked at the power of his growl. His tail lashed faster, and he hunkered down, wriggling his hindquarters from side to side just like a cat about to spring at a bird.

I increased the speed of my retreat. This seemed to activate the lion. He gave a mighty roar and I knew he was about to jump on me.

I turned and ran to the grilled gate, trying to open it.

It wouldn’t open!

From somewhere came the wailing of an alarm siren. That shocked me into realising that I was trying to open the door the wrong way. I wrenched it open! I raced through, but just as I slammed it shut behind me, something crashed against me, hitting my leg!

The lion’s roar so close to my ear was deafening. I dared to turn round and saw to my horror that the huge beast had crashed right up against the gate. I prayed that it would hold fast under his massive bulk. He dropped down and stood there, glaring at me through the steel mesh, roaring with rage.

I was in a small holding pen with another door at the other end. I raced through it into a wide corridor, away from the roaring lion. The alarm was deafeningly loud down there. Any moment, the place would be swarming with security. Red Singlet would be hot on my tracks. I had to get away! I was running down the corridor, past empty offices and laboratories, when I myself roared in pain. I looked down and was horrified to see a huge bloodstain seeping through the
back of my jeans. Through a rip in the denim, I could see a deep gash, welling with blood. The lion’s claw had got me!

Now that the shock was wearing off, my leg was becoming excruciatingly painful. I leaned against the wall for a second, feeling helpless and confused. Was it all over? I was trapped, just like the lion I’d faced a moment ago. I didn’t know where to go and there was no-one I could turn to for help. The mobile pictures of me would be identified by now and making their way into TV news reports, police bulletins and news papers. I’d completely screwed up my second meeting. Completely screwed up! But right now, I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I staggered into an empty room and collapsed into a chair, trembling all over.

I seemed to be in some sort of storage area; under piles of cartons I could see old sinks with curved taps. Maybe this was one of the laboratories. I caught sight of a box from a pharmaceutical company, and peered at the label. Beneath a lengthy scientific name was a phrase which caught my eye—
pre-loaded tranquillising syringes.

That’s what I needed, I thought bitterly. A tranquilliser.

But the insistent sound of the alarm brought me to my senses. That wasn’t the answer. I needed to stay alert and vigilant. I needed to stay at least one jump ahead of Sligo and Oriana de la Force. I needed to keep focused on escaping.

I could hear voices approaching. I lurched over to the counter, picked up the box of syringes and stuffed them in a pocket on my bag. I looked around for some painkillers but found nothing.

I had to keep moving. And even though I felt like I couldn’t move, I forced myself to keep going. I hoped Jennifer Smith would believe I wanted to see her.

I started down the corridor, ducking into another empty room when I heard the voices again.

A guy, a zoo official, started coming after me. I had no choice. Despite the pain in my leg, I made a sudden turn and ran back the way I’d come. Behind me, I heard him swearing and yelling into his two-way radio for reinforcements. Blood squelched in my sneakers as I raced away.

At the other end of the corridor I found a locked door. Desperately, I looked around for another escape route, ducking into an empty
office to the right of the locked door. The windows were also locked and the air conditioning was humming. I picked up a chair and acting on instinct, I brought it down on the window. Hoping to delay my pursuers a little more, I darted to the door of the office, slamming it shut and bolting it from the inside. Avoiding the shattered glass, I threw my torn hoodie over the jagged edges of the window frame and hauled myself out of the window, dropping to the ground about two metres below. The jolt of the drop to the ground shot agonising pain up through my leg.

I staggered to my feet and looked around. I had landed on a narrow path between two buildings. Here, the sound from the alarm was a little softer but I knew that the zoo would be crawling with security and, by now, the police.

The pain really hit me as I ran limping down the narrow path past the other buildings. One of the buildings nearby was a demountable with a narrow verandah at the front where a line of gumboots and workboots stood in an uneven row. Hanging above them were several wet weather jackets and coats. I limped up the two steps. I grabbed one of the dark green keeper jackets and a pair of tall gumboots. I hoped they’d hide
the blood that now soaked one leg of my jeans. I pulled my sneakers off and pulled the boots on, wincing as I pushed my injured leg into one of them.

Awkwardly, I crept to the end of the verandah and peered around the corner of the building.

I could hear people talking as they headed towards the exit, fragments of conversations about what they’d seen in the lion’s den.

‘He can’t have got very far,’ I overheard.

Another voice answered; ‘I’ve got him on my mobile. Take a look. That’s him there in the grey hoodie.’

I pulled the dark green jacket closer to me with relief, and shoved my sneakers into my backpack.

I slipped by groups of officials in khaki shorts and walkie-talkies, and clumped down the path towards the sundial, not even slowing to see if there was anyone there that could have been Jennifer Smith, past family groups with kids in strollers and a school group with their teacher. I was completely driven by fear, pain and the almost hopeless desire to escape unseen.

As quickly as I could, I hobbled down the path on legs that were shaking, blending in with the crowds who were already streaming towards the exit.