Fear No Evil. John Davis Gordon

good!’

      ‘They’re not going back.’

      She cried desperately across the moonlight: ‘You’ve got to listen to me! They’re going to be shot. I’ve seen the gun-crazy hillbillies in Erwin! I’ve seen them, I tell you—buying guns! And at the roadblocks. And the police are after you, and they’re not much better. You’re going to be surrounded!’

      Davey crouched in the dark forest, his sweat glistening. ‘Where are they?’

      ‘I don’t know exactly. Last night they were at the last highway back there!’

      ‘They’re crazy if they shoot, that won’t get the animals back.’

      ‘Even the police will shoot! They’re frightened, don’t you understand? They aren’t used to wild animals here!’

      ‘Tell them they’re not wild animals—they won’t hurt anybody.’

      Suddenly, a man called out behind her. ‘Okay, nobody else here.’

      She spun around with a gasp, and stared up at the biggest man she had ever seen. ‘Who’re you?’

      ‘I won’t hurt you, ma’am.’

      Davey stepped out of the forest, the big cats slinking behind him. She stepped back toward her car.

      ‘Please tell them everything will be all right if they don’t interfere,’ Davey called.

      She cried, ‘What are you trying to prove?’

      ‘Just tell them to leave us alone.’

      She cried, ‘This isn’t where these animals belong. They can’t fend for themselves!’

      ‘They’ll learn.’

      ‘The police art after you, I tell you. And the hunters—you know what they’re like. You’ll be shot to ribbons!’

      He broke into a jog, and the animals started after him. She stared in amazement all over again, then shouted desperately, ‘Listen, I’m a vet; I know what I’m talking about. Don’t you remember me—Dr. Johnson?’

      He did not answer.

      She cried: ‘Where are you taking them?’

      But he did not answer. He jogged across the sag, the animals lumbering behind him.

      She yelled: ‘I’ve got meat for the cats.’

      Davey ignored her. She turned desperately to me big Indian. ‘Where are you going with them?

      Big Charlie’s eyes were on the column of animals. He turned to follow them, but she grabbed his arm. ‘Where? …’

      He looked down at her. ‘To the Garden of Eden.’

      Her fingernails dug into his arm. ‘There is no such place! They’re going to die!’

      He looked at her, then gently pulled his arm away.

      ‘Wait!’ She turned, flung open the back door of the car and grabbed her doctor’s bag. ‘Carry that!’

      ‘You can’t come with us, ma’am.’

      ‘The hell I can’t! Those are my animals, and I’ve got to look after them.’

      She seized her new knapsack and sleeping bag. Charlie was staring at her, clutching her doctor’s bag. She hauled the big bag of meat off the back seat.

      ‘You can’t come with us.’

      ‘It’s a free country. Can you carry this meat?’

      The animals were fifty yards away now, lumbering up the grassy slope of Big Bald in the moonlight. All senses were alert, the cold night air was moving over their bodies and into their nostrils. Elizabeth could still hardly believe what she was witnessing even though, as a scientist, she knew there were such people as David Jordan. Before she could hesitate she started jogging desperately up the grassy slope after them. Charlie Buffalohorn stood, holding her doctor’s bag and the meat, staring after her.

      Then he started up the slope.

fourteen

      It was some time before dawn.

      Davey lay in the undergrowth on the edge of the forest, peering down onto Highway 23 at Sams Gap. The road was a black blur, ten feet below the embankment. Beyond it, the forest rose again.

      He could see no vehicles, no people. He lay, panting, sweating, trying to press his exhaustion into the earth, waiting. For a match to flare, for a voice, for a shadow, for a vehicle to come along the highway out of the forested night and light up the road. For five minutes he waited, then he stood up, quietly as an Indian, and retraced his steps.

      The big cats were scattered about in the darkness devouring the meat.

      Elizabeth sat well away, slumped against a tree to cover her rear, her legs shaking. Her exhaustion was nothing compared to her fear of the huge dark shapes of the animals in the moon-dappled forest. For one moment she had looked straight into the eyes of the Siberian tiger; those big, carnivorous eyes in that huge killer face with that menacing body behind it, staring straight at her without any bars between them, and she had felt a terror so pure that all she had known to do was throw her arm across her face and cringe. Then Davey had tossed the tiger a hunk of meat, and she had grabbed it and turned away. Then he had turned away himself and melted into the darkness, and she had wanted to run after him for protection, to beg him not to leave her alone. She waited desperately for him to return, her knapsack clutched in front of her as a shield, listening to the sounds of feeding. When she saw David Jordan come back she felt a wave of relief so enormous that it was almost sexual in quality—he was her protector.

      She tiptoed nervously over to him. He was squatting, his face in shadow.

      ‘Mr. Jordan? Please listen to me … for the animals’ own good.’

      ‘I’m listening.’

      She swallowed, feeling inarticulate.

      ‘How do you think you’re going to get away with this?’

      He did not look at her. ‘I’m not trying to get away with anything, Dr. Johnson. I’m just doing what is right.’

      She cried softly. ‘Right? How can it be right to throw defenseless animals back into the wild?’

      ‘You asked me a question,’ he said quietly, ‘so listen to the answer.’

      She took a quivering breath to contain herself. His voice and manner were so quietly determined they were almost military. His whole presence inspired confidence. ‘You’re a vet, you should know. It’s not right to keep an animal in a cage. You’ve seen them at that zoo of yours—you must’ve seen them in plenty of zoos.’ He shook his head at her across the dappled darkness. ‘Pacing about, in those tiny cages. Why are they doing that, Dr. Johnson? Mama, here, the tiger. Up and down, up and down. Why? Is it natural for a tiger to do that? Or is she doing it because she wants out? Because she wants space? Because her nerves and body and soul are crying out for freedom?’

      ‘But Mama doesn’t know about freedom! Any more than a child who grows up in Manhattan knows about Africa! She was born in captivity.’

      He said quietly. ‘Then why does she do it? For fun? Because she’s enjoying herself? No, Dr. Johnson. She’s doing it because she just naturally knows she wants out. She’s yearning. And the other big cats in your zoo—they weren’t all born in captivity. They remember, just as you and I remember, natural things like freedom. They long for it. And the elephants and the hippo. And the gorillas …’ He shook his head. ‘Jamba—she wasn’t born in captivity, was she? And look at her tiny cage. Nor the two youngsters …’

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