Fear No Evil. John Davis Gordon

by himself, with a nervous, long-suffering aloofness, watching Davey, waiting for his supper. He blinked and averted his head as Davey crouched in front of him, and took his big furry cheeks in both hands.

      ‘Never mind, Sultan. Tigers are smarter than lions really. And you’ve got another tiger to live with now.’

      Sultan just sat there pessimistically, eyes averted, having his cheeks scratched, feeling sorry for himself. Davey stood up, wearily.

      The lions were all watching him. Nervous of the darkening forest, waiting to be fed, waiting to be told what to do. Big Tommy sat in the middle, staring, as if ready to come padding straight at him to kill. But Davey knew that killing was the last thing on Tommy’s mind. Tommy wouldn’t know how to kill a chicken if it were thown at him squawking, except by playing with it. It was going to be difficult teaching them to hunt. Except maybe Kitty.

      As if reading his mind, Big Charlie said, ‘Don’t worry. Kitty will catch on quick. And show the others.’

      Davey nodded. Kitty’s eyes never left Davey, her thick tail poised.

      ‘But she’s the one I’m worried about,’ Big Charlie rumbled, watching her. ‘Got the devil in her heart.’ He added, ‘She’s the only one I won’t turn my back on.’

      Davey shook his head and smiled. He did not believe for a moment Kitty would turn man-hunter. But he never turned his back on her either, in her cage. She would come creeping up on him. Not to attack, but to pounce and play, four hundred pounds of jaws and claws. One pat with those paws could tear off a man’s face. He was careful with her; Charlie didn’t mess with her; Frank Hunt was downright frightened of her. And Princess, the other lioness, hated her.

      Tommy liked Kitty, but Princess picked on her. It happened now. Kitty started toward Davey, and, as she passed, Princess hissed, ears flat, fangs bared and a big paw ready to swipe. Kitty stopped, eyes half closed, ears back, head averted. Her paw was ready too, but she did not rise to the challenge, nor even hiss back. She just waited for Princess to subside. Charlie and Davey smiled. Kitty was not afraid of Princess; she was indifferent. Princess was the matron of the pride; Kitty accepted the fact and did not care.

      ‘Okay, you two,’ Davey said.

      Princess turned and stalked away angrily, and Kitty padded menacingly over to Davey. He held out his hand, and she arched her back and wiped her big flank along his leg, tail up. He put his hand under her whiskery chin and scratched. ‘You’re not afraid, are you, Kitty? I’m relying on you.’

      He straightened up and sighed.

      ‘You okay, Charlie?’

      ‘Sure.’ He lay on his back. ‘Stop worrying now, Davey. It’s happened.’

      Davey shook his head. ‘A few more hours, and we would have made it in the trucks.’

      ‘It’s happened. Ain’t nothing we can do about that. But we’ll still make it. Now, get some rest.’

      Davey smiled at the big Indian.

      ‘Come on.’

      He gave a low whistle and started to lead the animals back up the steep mountain to the Appalachian Trail at the crest. Then he started to jog, his face tense, his arms hanging slack, but it was twice as fast as walking, and he could keep it up for hours.

      The sun was setting. A minute later, as he came around a bend of laurel, he saw the man.

      His heart lurched and he started to spin around to shout a warning, but he cut it off.

      The hiker had his back to him, one hand on his hip, looking impatient. The next instant Davey saw a girl emerging from the bushes, head down, pulling her jeans over her thighs and muttering. Davey turned desperately, to lead the animals off the trail, and the same moment the man turned.

      He could not believe his eyes. His jaw dropped, and he went ashen, speechless. He was a keen backpacker; he carried Ed Garvey’s famous book on the Appalachian Trail like a Bible; he had hiked other wilderness trails; but nothing had prepared him for what he saw: a wild-looking man with a huge elephant behind him. He started to scream, but it just gargled in his dry throat. At that moment his wife looked up, and she screamed for him.

      Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to its fullest and the cords stood out on her neck and she clenched her fists to her bosom and her jeans dropped and she screamed. A wild female wail of paralyzed horror that galvanized her husband into action. He grabbed at her arm to plunge off the trail, and at the same moment she turned and fled in the opposite direction.

      The man flung himself off the narrow trail into the steep undergrowth, stumbling, out of control, gasping for his wife—and she fled down the trail wild-eyed, her jeans below her buttocks, bellowing her terror to the sky, and Davey yelled, ‘It’s okay—get off the trail!’ But she could not hear him, and she could not run with her jeans bunched at her knees, and she stumbled and lurched, desperately trying to yank them up, looking wildly over her shoulder and the more she could not run the more terrified she got—then Davey plunged off the trail on the opposite side. With a piercing whistle to his animals, he ran down the steep mountain, leaping and bounding, the animals lumbering and blundering after him.

      For a hundred yards he crashed down the mountainside, then he swung south again, parallel to the Appalachian Trail.

      Until well after dark he kept them trekking doggedly across the wild mountainside. It was killingly slow going. His legs trembled, and his stomach was a knot of exhaustion. He bitterly regretted not having just blundered on down the Appalachian Trail after the screaming woman until she had thrown herself off it, out of the way. But he could not bear to see her so frightened, and she could have fallen and been trampled; as it was he was worried that she might have run so far that she could not find her husband afterward.

      When it was properly dark they stopped and threw themselves down, to sleep for four hours.

      King Kong was fully grown, and the hair on his back had turned to silver. He weighed six hundred pounds, and his shoulders were thick and powerful. He stood nearly six feet tall, and his shaggy arms reached below his knees; his knuckles were twice as broad as a man’s, and his jaws were big and strong. In the zoo, nobody had dared go into his cage without elaborate precautions, except David Jordan. When they asked him how he did it he had replied ‘because he knows I understand.’

      A gorilla understands very well. King Kong did not remember much about his life in the Congo, but he remembered the green things and the space, the joy of climbing through the trees. For ten long years he had sat in his cage with the other gorillas, under a neon light, with a concrete tree and a concrete floor, and he looked at the people who came to stare, and grin, and make faces at him; he knew they were the same kind that had massacred his clan to capture him, but he also knew they could not get at him in here, and time had numbed his fear. But every day of his life his great body yearned for space, to stretch his limbs, to walk and run; for green things growing, and real earth, and trees to climb, and sun and wind and sky.

      And that is what Davey Jordan understood, and most zoo men do not. Zoo people will sincerely say that their animals are happy, because they are fed and safe from predators; that they neither remember much nor instinctively yearn. But David Jordan had the gift, the heart and the compassion to be able to put himself into the big black breast of the gorilla, and feel what he was feeling, so that he felt like a gorilla himself. When he sat in their cage, and talked to them, and even made their sounds, King Kong knew that David knew what his gorillaness wanted and needed and yearned for. But even more: King Kong knew that Davey was not a gorilla but a creature superior to him. And to everyone in the animal kingdom, superiority is important.

      Now King Kong understood what had happened, although it was very confused in its urgency. He knew he had been set free, and he sensed the fear and the excitement of the other animals, and he was frightened. There was not yet any joy of freedom, but he sensed that he was running for his life, and he would keep on running forever, following his leader in this desperate race.

      Now his leader was asleep, and King Kong wanted to sleep also. But he was