Part 6
The zoo before opening hours is an entirely different ecosystem. The mechanical hum of the filtration systems, the smell of heavy industrial disinfectant, and the sharp, damp chill of morning dew on the concrete replace the noise of the crowds. I finished my early perimeter check and walked toward the staff security gate just as the sun broke over the administration building.
Eleanor was already there. She was standing by the chain-link fence holding a large thermal thermos and a thick, cracked leather photo album.
I badged us in and walked her down the empty service corridor toward the carnivore unit. I had kept my word. Inside the keeper’s observation galley—a strictly staff-only area of bare concrete, heavy steel mesh, and the constant smell of raw meat—I had unfolded a heavy-duty steel chair and positioned it flush against the two-inch acrylic viewing wall.
Before she sat down, Eleanor rested her thermos on a metal supply crate and opened the album.
The photographs inside weren’t the brightly colored, stylized shots of a tourist safari. They were the faded, overexposed Polaroids of a medical triage unit. I saw a tiny, tawny lump asleep under the harsh glare of a heat lamp. I saw a clumsy, oversized paw wrapped in heavy white medical gauze, secured with industrial tape. And finally, a photograph of Eleanor, twelve years younger, her face tight with exhaustion, holding the cub against her chest. The animal in the picture was looking directly into the camera lens with wide, glassy eyes, entirely dependent on the woman keeping his body temperature up.
I looked from the fragile creature in the binder to the massive, heavily muscled predator currently resting in the dirt on the other side of the glass. The biological contrast was jarring.
Eleanor closed the heavy leather cover and took a seat.
The moment the metal legs of her chair scraped against the concrete floor, Titus’s ears pivoted.
He had a heavy beef shank waiting for him in his concrete den box, his standard morning feed. He completely ignored it. He stood up, his massive shoulders rolling under his coat, and walked straight across the enclosure. He didn’t pace the perimeter or vocalize. He simply lowered his heavy frame into the dirt, directly opposite the acrylic window.
Eleanor raised her hand, pressing her weathered palm flat against the thick glass. Titus leaned his massive head forward, his heavy breath immediately fogging the acrylic on his side, and closed his eyes.