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As the lawn gave way to the walking trails that connected the enclosures, the light faded behind them, taking the color with it. Each step raised little puffs of dirt that Tean knew, from his previous visit, was red. Tonight, though, out here, it looked black. Like he was throwing up tiny clouds of ash or smoke with each step. The smell of the lake reached him now, the scat that had cooked on hot concrete all day, the butcher smell that he guessed was the raw meat the big cats were fed.
Up close, the enclosures seemed much bigger than they had from a distance. Hog panels had been bolted together to create the walls—at least sixteen feet high, Tean guessed—and around the perimeter of the enclosure, a sheet metal roof stuck out at an angle, presumably to keep the big cats from climbing out. Farther back, where old-growth oak and hickory grew, was the lake. But his attention remained focused on the portion of the enclosure closest to the fence.
It was divided into three sections. The first was a safety gate, which was a small, transitional area with a second gate that allowed entry to the enclosure proper. The point of a safety gate was so that the keepers could enter and leave the enclosure without ever giving the cats a chance to escape. The second area was what Tean guessed was a feeding area that doubled as a holding pen. A guillotine door connected this to the main area, and for the moment, the door was down and closed. Light glinted on steel water bowls, raised to keep the cats from spraying in their own drinking water. In addition to a designated feeding area that could be controlled, it also offered a way to section off cats, or to keep them all corralled while the enclosure was cleaned or otherwise serviced.
The third area was the largest—the enclosure itself, where the cats could run and play. The trees and brush closest to the hog panels had been cut down, and in their place, a variety of elements had been added to entertain the cats. Concrete platforms and logs suspended from chains offered perches and cat walks. Hammocks at different heights offered more places for the cats to laze. Dark shapes among the maze of structures suggested toys, but Tean couldn’t make them out at this distance. He started to pull his attention back when green embers, lurking in the dark, caught him. Old, genetic instinct panicked. Then his rational brain asserted itself: eyes. Tapetum lucidum, a tissue in many animals’ eyes that reflected visible light back through the retinas. It helped them see in the dark. It also created the effect commonly known as eyeshine.
The eyes were low, almost subterranean, and then he understood: one of the underground dens. For a moment, the eyes seemed to be looking directly at Tean. Then the cat moved, and Tean lost it in the darkness. He thought of water buffalo, deer, wild horses. His pulse in his ears was hoofbeats, the sound of prey animals born to run.
“Did you see her?” Rod asked.
“Jesus Christ,” Tean whispered.
Rod laughed. “That’s Sita.” They had reached the enclosure now, and he motioned Jem and Tean off to one side and began to open the lock on the outer gate.
“Who or what is Sita?” Jem asked.
“Bengal tiger,” Rod said.
He stepped into the transitional space and opened the second gate. After doing something with a chain, he backpedaled quickly out of the enclosure. But nothing moved, nothing charged out of the darkness. Standing at the outer gate, one hand wrapped around a bar, Rod offered a sloppy, excited grin. Tean knew that feeling, the rush of danger, of taking a risk. He could feel the underbelly of that sentiment in the terror congealing in his bones.
“The thing about Sita is, she’s a man-eater. Nobody knows how that happens. Most tigers are terrified of humans, don’t want anything to do with them. But some of them, a switch flips in their brain. One day, they realize these monkeys in the funny clothes don’t taste so bad. And they sure as hell don’t put up much of a fight. After that, there’s nothing you can do about it.” He bared his teeth the way he had in the office. “The polite term is ‘persistent predators of humans.’”
But Tean thought he knew how it had happened. He thought he knew why they’d never found Yesenia’s body. Why there had been so much blood.
Jem shot Tean a look. It was a question, maybe a plea. Tean kept his face still and didn’t answer it.
“Go on,” Rod said quietly.
Tean didn’t move.
A jagged laugh erupted from Jem. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I’m not going in there. You want me dead? You can fucking shoot me yourself.”
“Son, if I shoot you, I’m not going to kill you. I might shoot you in the foot. I might shoot you in the knee. And then I’ll drag you in there, and I’ll let you crawl. Sita likes playing with her food.”
Another of those lightning-bolt laughs tore out of Jem. He looked at Tean, who was still fighting to keep his expression blank, and then back at Rod. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Go on,” Rod said in that same tone. In the dark, his teeth were nothing but the rough outline of splinters and saw-blade edges.
“No—” Jem said.
But Tean caught his wrist. He swallowed. Then he nodded. He had to give Jem a shove to get him moving, but then they were inside the safety gate. Rod slammed the outer gate shut, and the bolt went home. Tean tried the gate, but it didn’t move, and Colin gave a hazy laugh. Tean turned to inspect the inner gate. Rod had done what Tean had been afraid he’d done: he’d chained the gate open, so that Tean couldn’t shut it again. That was smart; the whole purpose of the safety gate was to protect the sanctuary employees, and Rod didn’t want that. Not tonight.
Jem’s breath had a whistling sound to it, but when Tean looked at him, he jerked out a nod. “Fine.”
Tean nodded.
“This is why people live in cities,” Jem said. “You realize that, right? This is why we invented fire and houses and—and Agent Orange.”
“At least it’s not a dog,” Tean said.
The laugh broke Jem up again for a moment. Then that strained composure reasserted itself. “No,” he said, a hint of hysterical amusement underlying the word. “Nope, it’s not a dog.”
“We’re going to run to the feed box.”
Jem nodded, crouching next to the interior gate. He produced a tube sock from his pocket, shook it out, and grabbed a rock from the ground inside the enclosure. He dropped it into the sock.
As Jem continued the process, Tean pointed. “That guillotine door, the vertical slider, over there. See? And then we’re going to get it open, and we’re going to stay in there until someone comes to help.”
