The Amazing Wolf Boy

Part 62 - Trapped on the Savannah

We romped over the dung-rich grass, scattering rabbits and armadillos. Bats crisscrossed the sky, feeding on moths. We came across a structure. It was whitewashed cinderblock on three sides; the fourth opened on several stalls. Inside, I saw a water buffalo with horns so wide I wondered how it lifted its head. Its nostrils flared as it turned cloudy white eyes toward us. Old and blind. I padded forward for a better look, but my scent gave me away. It kept its horns pointed at me whichever way I moved.

We continued across the preserve, meeting more roads. One carried the stench of fuel, and I knew that a vehicle had passed recently. Zookeepers or security guards. It reminded me there were humans in the park.

At a water trough, antelope and impala milled about. Another structure stood nearby. Evidently, each pavilion had its own paddock away from the public eye. This one was empty. Perhaps grass grazers were last on the zookeepers' nightly lists.

As we approached, the animals grew skittish. They took off, and we gave chase, barking and nipping their heels. They didn't run so much as bounce, touching down lightly and leaping in a different direction. I laughed as I herded them. Their hearts thundered as loudly as their hooves. Foam flecked their mouths, and their eyes rolled. They ran far from the structure meant to house them for the night. The zookeepers would have fun trying to round them all up again.

We continued exploring. Here, the trees wore chain-link coats to protect their bark. Many hooves pockmarked the dry ground. I smelled giraffe and knew this was the trail leading to their barns. I wished I could see them, but they were tucked in for the night.

We came to another ravine and a dirt bridge lined with chains. I hated the chains. I tripped and stumbled across. My arrival must have startled an ostrich because she hissed and kicked at me. We took turns goading her and having her chase us about. Finally, we let her run us off.

We were in rhino country. We found several of them in a cinderblock paddock munching lettuce, quite content to ignore us. I wondered if they'd be so complacent in the wild.

Beyond them, we saw the lion pavilion. They were also housed in cells. There was no getting near them. Another gorge surrounded the pavilion, and the road had two gates, too close together to jump individually and too far apart to jump as one. I had to content myself with watching them from across the ravine. They roared at me and paced in challenge, their eyes glinting in the dark.

We left the outlands, approaching the heart of the theme park. Sidewalks led us through an area with concrete dinosaurs. I saw a Ferris wheel, a carousel, and a lake with pontoon boats. We found an island with chimps and another with gibbons. They made a terrible racket as we neared. I was afraid a human would hear. They continued to scream even after we moved away.

The petting zoo used a double gate system to keep the goats and sheep from wandering out. A familiar cinderblock building stood inside. Its doors were open, the animals not yet bedded down for the night. When they saw us, they hurried inside the structure of their own accord. They bleated pitifully, huddling together and staying as far from us as they could.

The wind was in my face, carrying with it their mingled scents. I realized that terror had a distinct smell. I didn't like it. I wanted to go back to the savannah and chase the antelope. Turning around, I saw three werewolves slinking toward us. They showed their teeth and moved in a crouch as if ready to spring. I growled a warning to Rita and Uncle Bob, but the gibbons were making so much noise I doubted anyone heard me.

The wolves had us on three sides, the petting zoo at our back. I planted my feet and lowered my head, picking out the pack leader and locking his gaze. Uncle Bob barked, finally realizing something was up. He stood on one side of me, Rita on the other.

The six of us stared, growling. A standoff. The sheep bleated, and the gibbons screamed. I wanted to run or fight, wanted to do something, anything but just stand there. At a yip from her leader, the female vaulted the double fence into the petting zoo. The animals cried out, trying to hide, but their stall was too small for them to get away. The wolf grabbed a lamb in her jaws, snapping its neck. She shook it, nearly severing the head.

The other two wolves paced as if to keep us from leaving. I couldn't imagine why. A rumble rose in my throat. I would not stand by while this she-wolf slaughtered the helpless. This was not the thrill of the hunt. There was no sport in killing penned sheep.

My hackles rose, and I bared my teeth. I stepped forward, focusing on the leader's throat.

Then a human shouted, "Hey."

In an instant, I realized why they were keeping us there. The pack leader wanted us to be seen. If wolves were known to be in the area, no one would believe me if I said humans killed those women.

I heard another shout and the shot of a gun. We scattered, running in all directions. I was scared I would become separated from Uncle Bob, but after a moment, he pulled alongside with Rita close behind.

We ran the way we'd come, back toward the savannah. A voice inside warned that it was a bad idea. If the humans took a vehicle, they would easily run us down.

There came a distant shot. Rita yelped.

I glanced over my shoulder to see her tumbling. I slowed, barking, afraid to stop, afraid not to. Seconds later, she was up again, running full out, catching up.

I didn't see the other three werewolves. Maybe they'd run the other way into the parking lot. Like we should have done instead of heading deeper into the park grounds.

Another shot, and a bullet whizzed past my head. Its high-pitched whine left my ear ringing. I ducked and dodged, wondering how to get out of this. We reached the first dirt bridge. I leaped, soaring over it, barely touching the chains. Rita had more difficulty. Uncle Bob went back for her, barking encouragement as she stumbled across the ravine. Her coat glistened with blood from her wound.

I watched them, my muscles trembling, wanting to flee. At last, they picked up their pace. I turned, taking point.