The fence was steel, about ten feet high, only vertical bars. Not easily climbable, not without gecko feet or a simian athleticism Donny did not have. There was an old sign warning of high voltage, but he wasn’t buying it, and a tentative touch with his left pinky did not shock. He tried to climb it and fell on his ass twice, tearing his shirt the second time, before he got the idea to use one of the stubby trees that had grown up along the outside of the fence. That got him up there and over, at the cost of a couple more tears.

He walked to the house, up on the porch.

“Joyce?”

There was no one there. Not that he could see. But he smelled fresh-baked bread, and coffee.

He looked at the other path and decided to walk back down there toward the old zoo buildings. Maybe they were doing their morning chores.

Donny remembered the joke the pedicab operator made, about the big cats that come out at night. He didn’t believe it. At least not until he walked back in there and noticed for the first time how loud all the birds suddenly were. Alerting one another, and all the other creatures who knew how to interpret their signs, to Donny’s presence.

Donny looked around, and listened.

“Joyce!” He wanted to yell, but only had the nerve to whisper. There probably weren’t any zoo animals on the prowl. But Sig was around for sure, and he was probably more dangerous, and had even better reasons to have it in for Donny than Slider. He decided to keep quiet.

He saw a shadow off in the near distance to his right. Something low to the ground, but big.

He decided to walk back to the house.

The kitchen door was open.

“Hello?” he said, just loud enough. There was no answer. No sound of anyone about.

He tore off a piece of bread and scarfed it down as he stepped into the study.

It was a small room, furnished with plush old furniture and thick drapes over all the windows. There were bookshelves, but not enough for all the books, many of which were piled on the floor. There was an old rifle leaned up against the wall. And even though all the exterior light had been blocked out, the room was glowing.

When he stepped into the room, he found the source: a small video monitor on the desk. The screen showed a dimly lit room. The bars in the background revealed it was one of the old cages, refurbished to look like something more humane than a place to imprison animals. There were someone’s things there. A couple of books. A notebook and pencils. Some postcards on the wall. A fighter jet. A map. A menagerie of animals.

On the right side of the frame was a door.

It opened.