Tries to Escape

Lauren stayed curled in the shadow of the bush, the last tourist finally gone. The enclosure lights dimmed to a soft amber glow. Footsteps crunched on gravel outside the moat; a single keeper swept a flashlight beam across the grass. It caught her shoulder, froze, then moved on. “Coco’s bedded down,” the keeper muttered into his radio. “All quiet.”

Lauren looked at the service door that was across the moat. Lauren eased to the moat’s edge. The water looked black under the low lights, no more than waist-deep on her petite frame. She dipped a toe; cold. Gritting her teeth, she slid in. The current tugged gently, soaking the yak hair. Clumps loosened and floated away, but some clung stubbornly, glued by dried honey and sweat.

Halfway across, the motion sensor triggered. A soft chime. Floodlights snapped on. Lauren froze, water lapping her thighs. A camera whirred, focusing. “Coco’s swimming,” a bored voice crackled over a speaker. “Note it for the log.”

The lights dimmed again. Heart hammering, Lauren scrambled the rest of the way, dripping on the concrete walkway. The service door stood ten feet away, keypad glowing red. She has to wait.

Lauren wedged herself behind the bins, shivering as the soaked fur stiffened. Hours crawled. Finally, a cart rattled up just before sunrise. A yawning keeper—Wendy from earlier—unlocked the door, balancing a bucket of fruit.

Lauren’s muscles screamed, but she **** herself still. Wendy stepped inside, back turned. The door began to swing shut.

Lauren lunged, bare feet slapping concrete. She slipped through the gap just as the latch clicked. Wendy never noticed, already tossing bananas into the enclosure.

Inside the service corridor, fluorescent lights buzzed. Doors lined both sides: SUPPLIES, VETERINARY, UNIFORMS. A mirror on the wall reflected a wild-eyed, matted creature that barely looked human.