Midnight Ruling (17 page)

They were such playful alliterations, with bright colors and child-like writing. It made it all the more perverse. Each sign was burned with a sphinx brand at the edge.

Of course it would be Egyptian
, I thought.
A place of life and death.

Dropping, I sat down in the dirt behind the hotdog cart, partially hidden from view. I decided to work on the knot around my ankles first, in case I needed to run.

Picking at the rope with already dirtied nails, I took several slow, even breaths. I couldn’t afford another burst of anger. It could threaten everything.

Time to get it together, woman. Use the Force or whatever
. Muttering under my breath, I did my best Yoda impression, “Do or do not. There is no try.” As if something heard me, the rope gave, just a little. It was enough to soar hope and shoot off imaginary fireworks in my head.

As I imagined all this, a scream ripped through the air. This time, it didn’t sound like a monkey. It sounded human.

I took in a deep breath and heard my lungs shudder.

The scream came again. It didn’t die the way the monkey’s had. It sounded female.

I wriggled and pinched at the knot until my hands were fumbling to wrench it free. The adrenaline made everything shake. Unwinding it from my ankles, I threw it to the side like a snake.

The screaming went husky, and I heard a voice. One I recognized.
Phoebe.
She sounded scared.

The pain in my finger caught my attention. I noticed for the first time the small cut and realized I’d felt it for a while.

Looking up to the hotdog stand, I saw the sharp edge where I must have sliced it when I needed to catch my balance.

Desperation had me scrambling to my knees, dust hazing the air as I focused on the chrome edge. With no time to think about it, I rubbed the ropes around my wrists against the edging.

The metal box shuddered with each thrash, coinciding with the desperate voice I’d heard. A cacophony of primate shrieks began to join my friends.

Frays sprang apart, bit by bit, at my wrists. Each moment made me feel more vulnerable, more desperate. If anything came around the corner to stop me, I’d be as good as dead and so would Phoebe.

This thought propelled me to work past the ache in my muscles.

The monkeys’ furious shrieks were rising to a zenith. In the excitement I couldn’t hear Phoebe anymore.

With a snap, the rope unwound itself around my wrists. Tearing the rope free, I rubbed my sore joints while staggering to my feet.

The pathway labeled
Mangy Monkeys
loomed between the two unseeing Pharaohs.

Cautiously, I kept in the middle of the path, my steps hurried as the noise increased. Certain pitches in the shrieks made my muscles cringe. The lush jungle-like plants could hide anything, making me grossly aware that I could easily be watched from inches away.

Stopping, I listened while my imagination took off. What did these monkeys look like? Did they know I was here? Were they screaming a warning amongst themselves or to me?

The continual shrieks brought me back to reality, urging me to start walking again. My foot slipped over something round, and I caught my balance before I could lose it.

In the dirt, half hidden, was a round wooden pole no thicker than my thumb and nearly five feet long.

Stepping over it, I neared a dead end. Darkening the pathway was a tall, familiar black door leading into the cages.

Dubious, I approached the brass doorknob. I gripped the cool surface and felt the piercing temptation to run. I couldn’t let it invade me just yet, but the resistance caused me to tremble as I twisted the knob.

It was locked.

I twisted it again, confused.

Peering over my shoulder, I thought maybe I had chosen the wrong path. Maybe it had all been a trick. If I had to stick my hand in that repulsive old-food compartment to look for a key, I knew I’d vomit.

I turned to jog back to the central area to search, but a shrill scream nearly knocked me off my feet.

Swallowing my fear, I shouted without thinking, “Hey!” Probably the stupidest thing I could have done, if they didn’t know I was here already.

Phoebe’s scream rang out again, louder this time. She was saying something that I couldn’t make out.

Grabbing the doorknob again, I shook it, half hoping that it would unlock itself, but of course it wouldn’t. The wood around the knob looked dark green against the black, cracked and frayed, as if it were rotting.

I glanced over my shoulder, the anxiety mangling clear thoughts. The horrific scream came again followed by, “Fuck right off!”

Jolted, I shouted, feeling my throat ache in the effort. “
Phoebe!
”

The eruption within the cage undoubtedly smothered my voice.

Spinning, I saw the pole still on the ground. It was far too short and thin to pole-vault over the cage, but I knew I would have to use it somehow. The bars were far too narrow for me to fit through.

Running down the path, I snatched the slender rod from the ground. That was when I saw the Mangy Monkey’s sign still hanging in the archway ahead.

The sign was approximately three feet long and an inch thick. It should be heavy enough, I decided.

It hung in the archway by what appeared to be a hook.

Racing toward the circular center of the zoo, dust flying, I braced myself and swung. Using every muscle, I prayed the stick wouldn’t break.

Hitting the sign square in the center, the impact vibrated up through my elbows, jostling every small bone in the joint and almost forcing me to let go. Good thing my mother was right. I
am
stubborn as an ass.

The sign flung up, twisting off of the hook, and I had to move out of the way to avoid impact.

Falling to my knees, I ducked my head even though it landed a few feet away. The microscopic dirt erupted like a mini-bomb, choking me as I struggled back to my feet to scoop up the sign.

I felt a twinge in my back when picking it up and decided it would be heavy enough for the job.

The scream came again and zapped my insides like an electrical shock.

Gracelessly, I half ran, half hobbled, gripping the sign like a baseball bat, fingers cramping in the effort. Reaching the locked entrance, I prepared my body for the shock. Lifting the sign above my head, I arced it down onto the handle. There was a loud crack as obsidian splinters scattered from around the doorknob. I squinted through my eyelashes as I brought my weapon back and swung again.

The second impact stung my palms hard enough to make me drop the Mangy Monkey sign into the dirt.

The doorknob hung from the dark splinters, no longer attached to the lock.

Within the cage, I heard, “Get away from me, you chunk of puke!”

Phoebe’s voice sang to my hope. It had to be Phoebe in there; no one else would call a monkey a puke. Peering at the heavy sign, I realized I would be running in there in my flimsy pajamas without a weapon. The sign was far too heavy to use as a weapon, but maybe the stick could work.

I scooped up the rounded stick; I could feel the dirt embed beneath my fingernails as I whirled around and hurled my body at the door. It swung inward as if oiled.

I admit, I expected more resistance, and I immediately lost my balance. Falling on my hands and knees inside the cage, I tilted my chin up, alert.

Rank leaves and vines wrapped around the strange, bulbous trees with tumor-like lumps.

The ground was hard and packed, unlike the pathway I’d left behind, though instead of a straight path within the cage there were twists, turns, and disguised hiding places.

When I regained my feet, I raised the stick to shove the leaves aside and stumbled over hidden rocks.

The chaotic voices grew louder as I lifted a final leaf to see Phoebe Williams at last.

She still wore her blue-jean shorts and skimpy blue tube top. Any visible skin on her body wore a shallow cut. There was brown dried blood but nothing that looked fatal. She gripped a lower tree branch. Her chin rested on the rough bark as she flailed to lift her dangling long legs from the swarming clumps of fur on the ground. Her nostrils flared as she breathed heavily through gritted teeth.

The monkeys swung their elongated arms, clawing scratches into her tanned skin. Blood beaded the surface, but they didn’t seem to get deeper—thankfully.

There were three monkeys in the tree with her while the rest waited below. There had to be a dozen on the ground, at least.

The largest of the group crawled up the tree where she hung. Most of the monkeys had to be as tall as my waist, rounded with little pot bellies and curled spines. Patches of brown fur were missing to reveal reddened, irritated skin. Their intense yellow eyes were frighteningly focused and hungry.

The first one to reach Phoebe’s arms bared pointed, yellowed teeth. The second one opened its mouth, white foam bubbling forth and dripping.

Phoebe looked between the savage groupings, no doubt devising a plan. The three that surrounded her advanced with malicious ease, as if they knew she was theirs.

One spit yellow phlegm, barely missing Phoebe’s arm. She shouted a curse and growled like an animal. Raising one arm, she swatted at the nearest monkey and missed before struggling to keep her grip on the branch.

The monkeys shrieked in delight and dove in.

Seeing their foaming mouths, I shouted, no longer able to stand still and stay invisible.

Jumping forward with the stick swinging, I didn’t hesitate to hit the nearest of the furry mob.

My scream caused the monkeys in the tree to pause and back away from Phoebe, attention diverted in confusion.

Phoebe caught sight of me. “Fuller!” she cried. Her surprise had her swinging her legs for balance, and her arms skidded against the bark when she almost lost her grip.

Racing to the base of the tree, swinging at the aggressive horde, I managed to hit one or two of the braver ones. They didn’t try to attack me, yet. “Phoebe, jump!”

Phoebe shook her head, struggling to stay up in the tree. “
You
run! They’re everywhere!”

“No, you jump and I’ll catch you,” I called up, cupping my hands around my mouth like a megaphone, the stick pinched in my hand. There wouldn’t be much time before I’d either be coated in furry rage or I’d have to run. I doubted I’d make it up a tree.

Phoebe’s voice cracked. “Are you crazy?”

The monkeys behind me closed the circle, still keeping just out of reach of my stick.

“Can you think of anything better?” I snapped. “There’s no time!”

I swung my feeble weapon. I’d never be able to fend them off if they came at me all at once. My heart began to pick up, and I turned to shout at Phoebe again. I choked on my words as a monkey leapt at Phoebe, clinging to her back, hissing and spitting.

Phoebe screamed and bucked so violently that the monkey was thrown to the ground.

“Make up your mind, Phoebe!” I pressed, feeling the aggressive little monkeys around me growing in confidence.

Phoebe peered up at the monkeys by her head then looked back down at me. “Try and distract them,” she shouted down to me.

“What? How? Phoebe!” My plan could work. I doubted the fall by itself would break anything.

Phoebe shrieked, her voice shrill. “I don’t know, just do it!” Her body jerked as one of her hands slipped a few inches. Her legs kicked the air, and I could see the panic on her face.

Looking to the ground, I tried to ignore the leering faces that inched closer. Among the moss and grass, I found a rock just smaller than my fist. Plunging down, I curled my fingers around it. Testing its weight in my free hand, I stood up.

I wound back and tried to aim for the three around Phoebe. The moment I released, I swung my stick in wild arcs, warning the creatures to stay back.

Lady Luck must have been rooting for me, because my hurling stone socked one of the treed monkeys in the side of the head.

The monkey didn’t even shriek as it lost its balance and fell, cracking every branch before slamming into the ground.

“Holy shit! Do it again.” Phoebe cried with a harsh bark that might have been meant as a laugh.

I alternated between a warning swing and glance before I found another rock. Plucking it from the solid ground, I threw it. This time I missed but was quick to pick up another. I kept a firm grip on my weapon; it seemed to be the only thing keeping the beastly things at bay. The last throw hit the second monkey in the arm.

It shrieked and teetered before scurrying to the tree trunk, away from Phoebe, yelling at me as if cursing.

The rabid monkeys that were inching closer paused. I swung the stick again, grunting and sounding ridiculous instead of threatening.

I had to shuffle to find a bigger rock and push some of the circle back to get it. It barely fit in my hand and took all my effort to hurl it high into the air at the last little bastard.

The monkey dodged and ran to the tree trunk, bounding down to the ground with its brethren, foam dripping from its mouth. Glaring at me, it let out a wild shriek before launching.

Widening my stance, I prepared myself for the swing.

The monkey charged, shrieking, and I realized I wasn’t ready.

There was no time to think before it was close enough for me to see the grotesque, red clustered scabs in detail.

Panicking, I swung the stick like a golf club.

Twisting my body into the swing, like my gym teacher taught me, I felt the tip of my weapon collide with flesh and bone. Clumps of bloodied fur puffed as the airborne creature flew back.

The collective monkey shrieks deafened, and I had to duck my head to protect my ears.

It’s a miracle that I’d even heard the rustling behind me. Turning, I swung at the grounded monkeys blindly. They’d come dangerously close while my back was turned. Seeing my wild flailing, they leapt out of reach.

I wouldn’t last long at this rate. Each time I turned around, the ones behind me shimmied closer. The idea of their sharp, yellowed teeth sinking into my skin turned my stomach.