Page 8 of A Malicious Menagerie
“Excellent. Then I’ll leave your phone with the guard to collect as you leave,” Nathan assures me as he tugs at the cuffs of his shirt andprepares to leave. “You mentioned that you don’t have a car. We can lend you a company car while you’re employed with the menagerie. John can point you that way at the end of your shift.”
My jaw drops. First the unbelievable salary, and now a way to avoid taking two buses to get to this remote location? I’m getting that too-good-to-be-true feeling again. “Thank you.”
Nathan waves off my gratitude. “Can I answer any questions before I go?”
“Not yet,” I say slowly, thinking it over. “But if I do need to get hold of you, how would I do it?”
Quick as a flash, Nathan produces a business card from seemingly thin air and hands it to me. It’s made of thick, pearlescent cardstock with a simple design, just the double M logo above Nathan’s name and phone number. “Don’t lose that. The number is my work phone, which I have on me at all times.”
“What if you’re on vacation or something?” I ask as I tuck the card in one pocket.
He gives me an odd look, like the word is foreign or perhaps profane. “I’ll leave you in John’s capable hands,” he finally says before giving me a formal nod. “If you’ll excuse me…”
He heads the opposite way down the hallway toward the back of the building where I assume there’s another, probably less grand, exit. I turn back to John, who motions at me impatiently. “I don’t have all night.” Steeling myself for several hours of unpleasantness, I force my feet to follow him back into the desert.
John takes me back through the two exhibits I’ve already seen, but he adds more information than Nathan provided. He explains the jackalopes’ diet of fresh vegetables and unlimited hay, which is strategically placed in locations close to the front of the exhibit to allow any guests to see them. “Are there often guests?” I ask when he mentions that bit.
He grunts. “The boss likes to entertain.”
He repeats the warnings about the death worms and explains about the special gear that needs to be donned to feed the worms their diet of fecal material and rotting meat. “You mean, I’ll have to gointo feed them?” I askworriedly.
“Sure, how else?” he grumbles. “But the suit stands up to the venom. Least, it has the couple times the damn worms have tried it on me.”
Well, I wanted danger, right? Seems I got it.
This time, John takes me down the side path to see the Thunderbird. The aviary is built of thick iron bars shaped and painted to look like a vintage gilded birdcage, though it’s several times my height and probably half a city block in diameter. Inside the cage is more sand, but built upon it is a small mountain of craggy yellow rock adorned with scraggly bushes.
While I peer around the enclosure, a sudden rush of wings and a piercing cry startles me into stumbling back. The Thunderbird lands in a flurry of golden feathers and glinting black talons before advancing toward me, its wings spread to demonstrate its twelve-foot wingspan. “Holy shit!” I blurt as it comes to a halt with its hooked beak just an inch away from the bars of the cage, its golden eyes hard and glinting with intelligence no normal bird should have. It looks like a massive eagle, though its trailing gold and black tail feathers are more reminiscent of a peacock. Meanwhile, its long, scaled legs covered in scant golden down remind me of burrowing owls that I’ve seen in nature documentaries.
“Yeah, he’s not a pleasant one,” John says jovially, obviously pleased by my fear. Before I can comment, he startles me again by wheeling around and slamming his heavy work boot into the cage directly in front of the bird. The Thunderbird gives an indignant shriek that reverberates like a clap of thunder and clicks his beak threateningly at John before beating his magnificent wings and taking to the air. The size and power of those wings dredge up the sand, and I shield my eyes until the massive predator has disappeared above the mountain.
“What’d you do that for?” I ask, offended on the bird’s behalf. If I didn’t already dislike John, his casual cruelty would have sealed the deal.
“Have to teach these beasts who’s boss,” John growls. “Otherwise, they’ll start thinking of you as prey.”
It seems to me the Thunderbird would probably eat John just on principle, but I manage to keep my mouth shut.
“Alright, now we’ll go to…” A mechanical beep cuts him off, and he curses as he looks at his watch. “Look, I’m never going to get through everything I have to do if we have to tour this whole damn place. You’re on your own.”
“What?” I squawk. “I can’t just go wandering around on my own!”
“Why not?” John asks with a shrug. “It’s how I learned. You think the guy who did this before me gave a shit about teaching me?”
“I guess not,” I surmise sourly.
“You’re damn right he didn’t. Now, I’m headed to the aquarium to feed the sea serpent. After you’re done looking around, come find me and I’ll give you a job.”
My mind is so busy reeling at the words ‘sea serpent’ that I don’t come up with a clever response until John is out of sight. “Asshole,” I mutter under my breath. With one last wary look up at the mountain where the Thunderbird disappeared, I turn and head back toward the carousel.
5
The Wolf
Left alone with my thoughts, it doesn’t take long for the numb shock I’ve been nursing to transform into something closer to panic. Just this morning, I thought dragons didn’t exist because they belong in storybooks, not because they’reextinct. And I would have guessed Mongolian Death Worm was a metal band.
I manage to keep it together until I reach the carousel. Then, I find the wolf again, sink onto the platform below him, and drop my head in my hands. I just need a minute tobreathe. In, out. In, out.
Okay, so jackalopes and death worms and Thunderbirds are real. That’s fine. Just so… totally…fine.I’m not freaking out, not even a little bit.
