John van Dijk - THE ZOO

"Them." Happy stated flatly. "He was waiting for them to come. And another thing, he’s not a he."

Sam couldn’t suppress a short, humorless laugh. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I watched him, Sam. Stayed out of sight in my old Impala, don’t you know, and I saw him ....... disappear before my very eyes. Jumping Jesus! His body just started vanishing from his head on down! People can’t do that, can they Sam?" He sounded like a plaintive child desperately seeking reassurance that all was right with his world.

Sam didn’t believe Happy. She couldn’t. She reminded herself that, after all, he was well into his eighties and everyone knew he did like to go on a good bender every now and then. Obviously, this fantasy was the end result of the latest one.

The air at first light was heavy with mist. Sam had given up on sleep, found a warm sweater and was walking the lonely stretch of beach at the Carrying Place well before dawn. The only sounds were of the gently lapping water and a sleepy night owl hidden above in the trees.

She had just rounded the bend when she saw him, thickly shrouded in the vagueness of the early morning light. Somehow, she wasn’t at all surprised to see him standing there. As if compellingly drawn to him, she intensified her pace over the rough pebbles until she was standing in the short dune grass beside him.

Per’s eyes were warm and friendly, so damned attractive the way they looked deeply into hers. He didn’t say a word as he cupped his hand under her chin, lifting it in order to touch her lips lightly with his own. Then he touched them again. This time a little longer and firmer. Gently, he skimmed his thumb along her cheek before he dropped his hand.

"How was your excursion to the Mainland yesterday?" he asked.

"Crowded" Sam replied briefly. "What have you been up to while I was away?"

"Not a great deal." Per responded nebulously. He took her hand in his and they leisurely made their way along the path that dipped in and out of the rocks until it came to her house.

Sam could hear the insistent ringing of the phone as she opened the door. Martha sounded frantic on the other end.

"It’s Nana." she said brokenly.

Wanda was gone quickly. A massive stroke. Without any warning, Martha said.

"But, Mom," insisted Michael, doggedly tugging on her arm, "Nana said she was going to go away to be with Gluskabe."

Eventually, though, he gave up, joining his brothers to play outside in the sunshine.

Geez, no one ever listens to us kids, he thought disgustedly.

It was just before 3:00 in the morning when Per noiselessly slipped out of the warmth of Sam’s bed, leaving her alone to her dreams. In the heavy darkness, he left the house and made his way to Hockamock Head.

Sam’s eyes flew wide open the moment he left her room. With a single determination, she pulled on nearby jeans and a sweatshirt before following Per out into the moonless night.

She stumbled along the rocky track that was barely visible in the dimness. In her haste, she tripped, smashing her left foot into a rough outcropping of granite. In reflex, she frantically grabbed at a bush on the side of the trail.

The sharp thorns that studded it’s gnarled branches penetrated deeply into her hands. She staggered a few more steps before going down completely, painfully scraping the skin from both her knees as she fell. For just a moment she lay where she was on the ground, waiting for her pounding heart to pump needed oxygen back into her body. Stubbornly, she regained her feet and pushed on. She was almost there.

Sam saw the eerie green glow ahead just before making her way out into the open.

She hurriedly dropped to her belly, oblivious to the sharp rocks and twigs that tore at her body, momentarily knocking the breath out of her.

The massive airship vibrated as it hovered over the cliff about two hundred yards away. It almost seemed to hum with a life all of it’s own. Per was no where in sight. Sam lay there, remaining perfectly still on the damp earth, waiting. For what, she wasn’t sure.

There was no actual way to determine how long she had been laying there, but the far eastern sky was just starting to streak with a silvery gray when Sam saw the portal soundlessly gape widely open. Within moments, Per materialized before her on the stony cliff.

Sam had to remind herself to start breathing again.

Happy had been right after all.

Probably in a state of shock, she lay where she was until the intensity of the morning sun began to beat down upon her. Slowly, her body feeling bruised and fragile, Sam got to her feet and looked about her surroundings dazedly.

The morning was peaceful. Lobstermen were already pulling their traps out in the bay. The glint of seagulls diving in and out of the boats in hopes of scrapes was reflected by the sun. A soft breeze delicately ruffled Sam’s hair. It was all so deceptive.

Wearily, she made her way home. With each of her foot falls, her mind repeated what had become a sort of mantra.

What do I do now?

It wasn’t much later that day when everything seemed to go to hell in a handbasket in a big hurry.

Peering out the window at the sound of crunching tires on her driveway, Sam spotted Fed Larson’s dusty Ford Ranger. Fed was the lone constable of the Island.

Had been for over twenty years now. There were only two reasons for a visit from Fed. He was collecting money for the local firemen’s auxiliary or there was bad news. From the expression on his face as he climbed out of his truck, Sam knew he wasn’t here because of the first.

"Happy’s holed himself up in the abandoned lighthouse with a rifle." He stated bluntly at Sam’s questioning look.

Jesus H. Christ, she breathed, as she climbed into the truck beside Fed.

By the time they reached the Head, a crowd had formed. At least, a crowd by Island standards.

"Out of my way," bellowed Fed, letting his large frame shoulder it’s way through the mass, clearing an open path for himself and Sam.

"Is he drunk?" she shouted to Fed through the wind as they carefully climbed their way to the lighthouse door on the rickety, wooden steps.

"Blistered."

Sam could hear him before she reached the top, but she couldn’t quite make out the tune. It could possibly have been I’ve Got The World On A String, which was an old favorite of Happy’s. However, when it came right down to it, he was so atonal that it really didn’t matter what the song was.

A distressed Fed turned to her in mid-step, "You need to talk to him, Sam. Get him out of there before he goes and hurts himself."

"This could take some time. When he’s this drunk, Happy usually likes to sing for a while first before he feels like talking."

She was about to assure the Sheriff that she would do her level best when the window above her head banged open just enough to allow a protruding gun barrel through it.

"Who’s out there?" Happy’s voice, though belligerently loud, was seriously slurred. "Don’t try to sneak up on me, now. I’m armed, you know. Armed and goddamned dangerous."

"Hap, it’s me. Let me in." Sam had to yell in order to get herself heard above the constant blow of the wind off the Atlantic.

The lighthouse door snapped open so fast it almost came off it’s ancient hinges.

"Sammy! C’mon in here, girl. Hell, just the one I wanted to see. How’d you know where to find me?"

S am leaned against the cracked and peeling paint on the interior wall and glanced out the dirty window. Down below she could see what by now must have been most of the town milling about. She could make out Mink Ollenburg and a few of his cronies sitting in the bed of a pickup truck just like they were attending the annual Fourth of July picnic. Per could also be seen, standing alone, off to the side of the throng.