The Nineties were a wild time for me, but not because of the sex, drugs and rock ‘n roll; one day, I was an unemployed factory worker with forty two bucks in my bank account, and the next, I was strapping myself into a Kevlar bodysuit and scooping up goblin shit with a dustpan. Yessir, life sure can be funny like that.
As it turns out, none of the Caretakers or their assistants used their real names at the zoo. The unwritten rule was that you couldn’t choose your own pseudonym; your name had to be chosen for you by the other Caretakers. In the meantime, new recruits such as myself were known as ‘hey you’, or more often, the others just ignored you. It was a decidedly frosty work environment.
As Esmerelda eloquently summed it up, “Nobody’s gonna give a shit about you until you prove that you’re not a fuckup. Until then, you don’t have a name.”
She made a sweeping, head-to-toe gesture at me and added, “This doesn’t help. None of this.”
I crossed my arms defensively and demanded to know what the heck that was supposed to mean. She rolled her eyes and snapped, “Oh, come on! Look at you! You look like a dollar store Kurt Cobain. You look like you rolled out of bed ten minutes before you left the house this morning. What did you have for breakfast today, a handful of Cheetos and a bong hit?”
Esmerelda wrinkled her nose in disdain and vigorously shook her head. “I don’t want someone like that watching my back. I want a partner who’s tuned in, you know what I’m saying? I want someone who’s got their shit together. Because if my partner doesn’t have their shit together, maybe I won’t go home that day. You get me?”
I muttered, “Yeah, well, sometimes appearances can be deceiving,” and shuffled away with a dark cloud hanging over my head. I was angry at her, but only because she was mostly correct in her assumptions, right down to the handful of Cheetos for breakfast. I vowed to choke back an extra bong hit or two the next morning, just to spite her.
As the first week drifted by, I began to piece together a vague picture of Kazimir’s past. I learned he’d once been a soldier, although he neglected to mention his rank, what branch of the military he served in, or even the name of the nation for which he’d performed his service. From what I could gather, Kaz had defected from the unidentified nation at some point and became a mercenary in a different country. I was dying to press him for more details, but I didn’t quite dare. Suffice to say, he was a tough old buzzard with a checkered past, and that’s all I needed to know for now.
We made it a habit to take our lunch in the shade of a gazebo out in the gardens. It was my favorite part of the day, because Clara the Jackalope would usually come nosing around for pets and treats. I would end every lunch break with an oversized rabbit stretched over my lap, her eyes closed in sheer bliss as I scratched that hard-to-reach spot between her antlers. On this particular day, which happened to be a Friday, Clara was in a decidedly feisty mood. She was thumping her hind legs and racing around the gazebo like a mad dervish, occasionally darting under the table to ram my shins with her antlers. This fun little game was leaving me with some pretty decent bruises.
After the tenth sneak attack, I leaned down and snarled, “Stop it, you bad little shit! Hey Kaz, pass over that tranq gun, wouldja? I’m getting my ass beat.”
Kaz didn’t reply. He was staring blankly at the remains of his lunch, some kind of fish pastry that smelled almost as bad as Gort. I waved my hand to get his attention and asked, “Is everything alright, man? You barely even touched your squid and liver pie. Not that I blame you! That shit smells fucking horrible.”
Kazimir shook his head and scrubbed his palms over his eyes. He lit a cigarette and sighed, “Eh, I am preoccupied. It is almost time for our turn on the midnight shift. I despise the midnight shift.”
I spied Clara sneaking in for another battering ram attack, so I scooped her up and attempted to subdue her with a hug. “Settle your shit down! Why are you so wound up today? Sorry, what’s this about a midnight shift? Why do we have to do a midnight shift?”
Kaz gave me a dour look and said, “Beginning Sunday night, we will spend a week caring for the creatures that are classified as ‘Other’. These things are mostly nocturnal in nature.”
Kaz clamped his lips together in a tight line. He blew twin plumes of smoke from his nostrils and added, “During the day, another crew comes to clean the habitats while the creatures are at rest. We cannot do this at night, when they are active. It is too dangerous.”
I scratched behind her ears and murmured, “We don’t like the sounds of that very much, do we, Clara?”
“You and that rabbit,” Kaz growled. “It is almost sickening.”
I said, “You’re just jealous,” and plopped Clara back onto the ground. Her ears swiveled around and she started sniffing the air, her eyes bulging almost comically from their sockets. Clara’s nose twitched, and she let out an explosive sneeze before abruptly whirling around to take off at top speed. She bounded over a clump of bushes in one frantic leap and disappeared from view in seconds.
I watched her go and said, “Holy crap, she’s wired today. You see that shit? Anyway, I guess it’s time to get back to…”
I trailed off in mid-sentence. My train of thought had been completely derailed by the appearance of a tiny humanoid that was suddenly floating in the air between us, hovering a foot or so above the picnic table on iridescent wings. It looked like a cross between a hummingbird and a Barbie doll, perfectly proportioned and clothed in a tiny cloak made of milkweed fluff. It was maybe seven inches tall, a diminutive wisp of a creature with peppercorn eyeballs and a long, flowing shock of silvery hair.
I licked my lips with a dry, clumsy tongue and wheezed, “Hey man, what am I looking at right now? Holy shit.”
Kaz was leaning away from our unexpected visitor, as if he were trying to avoid the unwanted attention of a particularly aggressive bee. In a loud stage whisper, he said, “This is a sprite. You will be fine if you leave it alone. Ignore it, and it will go away.”
The sprite drifted closer, its gossamer wings whirring away quietly as it hovered in the air. It appeared to be studying me with an unnerving intensity. I scooted as far away as possible on the bench seat and whispered back, “It’s looking at me, man. Why is it looking at me? It’s freaking me out.”
In a thin, piping voice, the sprite lilted, “The midnight hour bringest thou ill tidings! Death clings to thine shadow. Beware the one who walks in the moonlight!”
I did a double take and mumbled, “Um, what? Excuse me?”
My strange little visitor waved its arms and chirped, “Take heed of this warning, and remember the light is close to thine heart!”
The sprite made a bizarre trilling sound and spun around in a circle, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I heard Kazimir gasp something in his native tongue, and I saw him make the sign of the cross from the corner of my eye.
Faintly, I said, “Hey man, what the hell is going on here? What should I do?”
“Beware the one who walks in the moonlight!” the sprite screeched, and it clapped its tiny hands together to emphasize the importance of its words. “Take heed! The light is close to your heart! Your hearrrrrrrrrrrrrrt-”
The sprite’s last word spiraled up into a high-pitched buzz that felt like an ice-cold spike in my frontal lobe. It peaked at an ear-piercing octave, and the sprite shot away in a sudden blur. It was there one instant and gone the next, moving so rapidly it appeared to wink out of existence.
I stared at Kaz for a moment, too stunned by what I’d just seen to speak. Finally, I peeled my tongue off the roof of my mouth and grunted, “What just happened?”
Up until this point in time, I was pretty sure Kazimir possessed only three different facial expressions; mildly annoyed, mildly amused, or a forbidding non-expression that strictly prohibited foolishness of any kind. So, as you can imagine, I was a bit disturbed to see that Kaz looked genuinely shaken by the incident. He was gawking at me like I had just sprouted a second head.
Kaz pointed at me and stammered, “It spoke to you! I have never seen such a thing!”
Reluctantly, I asked, “Is that bad?”
“Maybe not,” Kaz muttered, “but maybe so.”
I rubbed my temples and groaned, “What now, for Christ’s sake?”
“Well,” Kaz said slowly, “first, you must understand that the Fae folk move very rapidly, much faster than any mortal being can imagine. Because they move so rapidly, they can travel in any direction. From their perspective, up and down is the same as yesterday and tomorrow. The laws of the physical world mean nothing to them. In the eyes of the Fae, we are hardly different from this willow tree, or the ant which crawls across the table, or even a blade of grass in the fields. We are slow and insignificant. It is a very rare occasion when a sprite will even notice a human being. It is…”
Kaz made a vague motion with his hands, his lips pursed beneath the salt-and-pepper ridge of his mustache. I swallowed down a lump in my throat and demanded, “It’s what, man? Spit it out! You’re killing me over here.”
Kaz shrugged and said, “Very well, then. When the Fae take interest in a mortal being, they will sometimes take them away. This does not happen often, but it happens.”
I stared at him in horror and croaked, “Take them away to where?”
Kaz shrugged again and lit another cigarette. He exhaled a roiling cloud of smoke and said, “No one knows. No one has ever come back.”
“Well, there you go!” I exclaimed, and I zipped up my cooler bag with an angry jerk that nearly ripped the tab off the zipper. “No one’s ever come back. Good stuff. Man, fuck this job.”
Kaz held up his finger in a shushing gesture and, in a conspiratorial tone of voice, he said, “According to the legends, they will sometimes predict the future. It may be wise to remember what it said today.”
“I was too busy being fucking dumbfounded to pay much attention,” I snapped. “I think it said something about the light being close to my heart, I dunno. I can’t remember. Why the hell does Vic let these things fly around unsupervised, anyway? Seems kinda reckless, doesn’t it?”
Kaz explained that Victor actually had no control over the sprites or their actions. Unlike the rest of the creatures at the zoo, the sprites hadn’t been captured out in the wild. They just sort of showed up one day, and they never left.
I said, “Really? That’s weird. I wonder why?”
Kaz waved a hand at the mini-castles and elaborate footbridges in the background.
“No one knows for sure why they chose this place,” he said, “but I think the reason is obvious. If I were a fairytale creature, I would wish to live in a fairytale land. Their arrival was an unexpected windfall for Victor. Sprites are very rare.”
I grunted, “Yeah, that’s really wonderful for Vic and I’m super-happy for him. Listen, if I end up getting kidnapped by some Tinkerbell-looking piece of shit, I’m gonna be pissed. Like, for real. What kind of bullshit is that?”
Kazimir’s lips curved in a ghost of a smile, and he socked a playful punch into my shoulder. My entire arm immediately went numb.
“Perhaps they will tire of your constant complaining and bring you back. Eh, I am making a joke with you, boy! I think you will probably be fine.”
He glanced down at his watch and grumbled, “Lunchtime is over. It is time to attend to the goblin.”
I slung my cooler bag over my shoulder and muttered, “Great. I think I’d rather get kidnapped.”
#
At the end of the day, I walked through the front entrance and almost walked right into Victor, who was chatting with the armed guards and slurping at a martini glass. Vic caught me by the arm and boomed, “Heya, kid! How’s it going? Well, your first week is officially in the bag. You’re doing great in there! Keep up the good work.”
Right away, I knew something was up, and my stomach dropped into my shoes. It was obvious that Vic had been waiting for me. Now, don’t get me wrong - I liked my new boss just fine, all things considered - but I was also scared shitless of the man. There was something wild and unpredictable lurking behind Victor’s cheerful grin, and his gaze was always just a little too sharp. It felt like he could bore right through my skull with that piercing stare and lay bare my most secret thoughts.
I forced myself to meet his gaze and chirped, “Thank you, Vic! I appreciate that. Well, have a good weekend!”
I tried to scoot past him, but Vic stopped me dead in my tracks with a heavy hand on my shoulder. He gave it a firm squeeze and boomed, “In a hurry to get outta here, are ya? Hey, no, I get it. You’re young, it’s the weekend, and you’ve got a wad of cash burning a hole in your pocket. Here, I’ll walk you to your car. I just wanna talk to you for a minute.”
Vic led me down the stairs, his hand still firmly gripping my upper arm. As soon as we were out of earshot from the guards, Vic said in a low voice, “Look, I gotta admit, I’m a little worried about you starting this night shift. The exhibits we keep in that wing, they’re no joke. They’re not even alive, these things! Can you imagine that? Not even alive.”
In my mind’s eye, the sprite gazed into my soul with eyes like flecks of obsidian and trilled, Beware the one who walks in the moonlight! I felt a stir of unease crawl its way down the length of my spine.
Faintly, I asked, “Not alive, as in dead? Like, ghosts and shit like that?”
Vic said, “Yeah, sure, we got a ghost in there,” and I let out a harsh snort of involuntary laughter. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him, of course; I just didn’t want to believe him. The afterlife is a scary subject. Gort the goblin was an obnoxious, disgusting frog-monster, but he was still a living creature. The very idea of encountering spirit world shit like ghosts and ghouls made my eyes start to involuntarily water.
Vic glared at me and barked, “Whatcha laughing at, kid? What, do ya think I’m lying to you over here? The ghost is the least of your concerns in that wing of the zoo, believe me. I don’t know if you’re ready for that kind of action just yet. Do you maybe wanna stay where you are for another week or two? You’d be partnered up with Esmerelda. I think she likes you, and lemme tell ya something, that lady doesn’t like nobody.”
I shook my head and mumbled, “I don’t know, Vic. I think she actually kinda hates me. Look, if it’s all the same to you, I’ll just stay with Kaz. I’ll be fine. I can handle it.”
Vic exclaimed, “Hey, that’s the spirit!” but his eyes were troubled. We had reached my car at this point, and Vic leaned his bulk against the driver-side door, preventing my escape.
He crossed his arms and said, “Listen up, kid, because this is important. I got someone… I mean, I got something locked up in that wing that really has it in for me, even more than the rest of ‘em. You remember my story about the vampire? Yeah? Well, it’s him. Long story short, he’s got a long-standing grudge against me, as you could imagine. He’ll probably tell you some things about me that just aren’t true. Lies and wild distortions of the truth, all of it. Don’t believe a word he says.”
I stood there a few moments in the bright sunshine, silently processing the fact that my boss was worried I might hear some mean-spirited gossip about him from a vampire. Faintly, I murmured, “Okay, thanks for the heads-up. I won’t listen to him.”
Vic looked relieved. He said, “That’s right. Don’t listen to him and his bullshit. Honestly, I’d go pound a stake through his black, lying heart right now, but I still need the dirty little bastard around. As soon as I get a replacement for him, he’s history. The thing is, it’s pretty hard to capture a vampire. That’s the trouble with vampires, you know? It’s easier to kill the ugly bastards than to contain them. They don’t obey the laws of nature.”
I nodded enthusiastically and said, “Oh, for sure. I betcha they’re a handful!”
I made a show of hauling my keys out of my pocket and sighed, “Anyway, I should kickstart this crazy weekend of mine, so…”
Vic heaved himself off my car and boomed, “Damn straight! Ah, to be young again! Chasing dames and causing a ruckus, am I right?”
I flashed what I hoped was a devilish grin and chuckled, “I’ll drink to that!”
In reality, my plan was to smoke a little hash and eat some Chinese takeout by the flickering light of the television. The truth was that I sort of hated going out to bars, and I wasn’t much of a ladies’ man. I mean, I was a decent-looking enough guy underneath all that hair, but I was really bad at talking to girls.
I banished the gathering storm of self-pity and pushed past Vic’s protruding gut to hop into my car. Vic leaned into the window and said, “Remember, that bloodsucking son of a bitch is completely full of shit. Don’t believe a word he says, not one word. Oh, and remember to wear the silver around your neck. That’s real important, the silver. Don’t forget.”
There was another awkward silence. I sat there and waited to be excused with a polite smile pasted across my face.
“Anyhoo,” Vic wheezed, “you start on Sunday night at eleven, and you’re done on Friday morning. Listen to Kazimir and you’ll be fine. He knows his shit.”
Vic sent me on my way with a slap on the hood and a cheerful, “Go on, kid, get outta here.” As I slouched in front of the TV later that night, stoned and mellow with a stick of Nag Champa smoldering away on the coffee table in front of me, I found myself wondering what kind of dirt a vampire with a gambling problem might have on a former contract killer. Then I pondered the true nature of a universe where one could find themselves exploring such a weird fucking scenario.
And then I smoked some more hashish and giggled at the TV for a while, because fuck it, man. Fuck anything and everything under the sun. Nothing made sense anymore, and I was simply going to have to live with that fact.
I put down the hash pipe and called it a night when my eyelids started sliding shut. I paused at the window on my way back from the bathroom to have a peek at my silent watcher in the street, a burly shadow that leaned against a dark sedan and chain-smoked all night. Vic had no shortage of large men working for him, but I was pretty sure it was Len down there. Even though I had the distinct impression he didn’t like me very much, I felt oddly comforted that it was Len and not someone else. I felt like he was probably a decent guy at heart, despite what he did for a living. It was just a job, I suppose. Everyone needs to make a buck in this world. That’s just how it is.
Softly, I said, “Goodnight, big guy,” and I left him to his midnight vigil, a hired killer who would shoot me dead if I gave even the slightest indication I might blow the whistle on Vic’s operation. And you know what? I slept like a baby that night. I can’t quite explain why, but knowing that Len was lurking down on the street below gave me a warm, cozy feeling. In a strange way, I felt like we were all family now. Me, Len, Vic and Kaz, all the hired goons and the monsters in the habitats, we were all one big, dysfunctional family with a secret, and the whole situation was starting to grow on me. Day by day, it was starting to grow on me.
My last coherent thought before I fell asleep was, “I should order him a pizza.” I had a strange hunch that Len was probably a lonely guy. I had no idea why, but I kinda liked the big galoot. I could sense that he was a victim of circumstance, and I could relate all too well.
#
Saturday flitted past in a blur of grocery shopping and laundry, followed by a long night of video games and bong rips. The latter was furnished by my dealer, a casual acquaintance named Vincent. Vince was somewhere in his later forties, an aging hippy leftover whose favorite topics were The Man and the various methods through which The Man was able to keep us down. Occasionally, I’d let him hang out so he could vent for a while, but more often, I just did the deal at the door and immediately bid him goodnight. He was… well, a bit much sometimes. A nice guy overall, but his paranoia schtick was definitely a bit much.
As soon as I swung open the door, Vince blundered past me and blurted, “Hey man, there’s a dude lurking around in front of your building. Like, a dude, you know? One of them.”
I manufactured a skeptical grin and said, “The fuck are you talking about, Vince? What dude?”
Vince peeked out the living room window and quickly ducked out of sight, plastering himself flat against the wall. “He’s still down there,” Vince whispered. “He’s sitting in a black sedan. This guy has pig stink all over him, man. Like, he’s practically oozing Eau de Fascist Establishment from his pores, that’s how fuckin’ obvious he is. What have you been getting yourself into, man?”
“I’m not committing any federal crimes, Vince. Sit down and stop freaking out. It’s just some guy in his car.”
“Just some guy in his car?” Vince repeated, his tone incredulous. “Sure, man. It’s just a weird coincidence that a big gorilla in a dark suit is staring up at your window, out of all the windows in this whole city, and he-”
“So, whatcha got tonight?” I interrupted. “I’m looking for some decent green.”
“Then I can’t help you,” Vince sighed in mock regret, and he flopped himself down on my couch. “See, all I got here is this fuckin’ dynamite green. Seventy for a quarter, forty for a half. Don’t ask for no grams, bro. I don’t do that high school shit. Whatcha want?”
I raised an eyebrow and shook my head at him. I said, “I’m disappointed in you, Vince. I feel like you should be pointing a flintlock pistol and yelling, ‘Stand and deliver!’ Because that’s highway robbery, man.”
Vince smirked, “Go grow your own stone then, my man. Smoke for free.”
“Whatever, my man, just sell me a quarter and quit rubbing your hippy stink all over my fucking couch.”
“Ah, come on, brother,” Vince moaned. “We’re socializing here, what gives? Why are you always so harsh, man?”
I wearily scrubbed my palms over my face and grunted, “Look, just shoot me quarter ounce and get outta here, wouldja? I’m not in the mood for company.”
“You’re never in the mood for company,” Vince grumbled. “It’s all good though, man, because you know what? You’re an asshole. There ya go, asshole. Gimme my money so I can stop burdening you with my presence.”
I saw Vince’s wounded expression and almost felt bad for him. Vincent was an old burnout, but he was a nice enough guy beneath the foggy-brained dumbfuckery. I put the money on the coffee table and said, “Look, we’ll smoke one and hang out for a while next time. I promise. It’s just been a long week and I’m on my last nerve over here. Thanks for coming by, man. You know I appreciate it.”
Vincent slouched over to the door and muttered, “Well, I certainly hope you appreciate it. There aren’t many dealers out there who’ll deliver.”
“You’re one of a kind, Vince,” I agreed, and I firmly steered him out the door. When he was gone, I let out a sigh of relief and sat down to roll a fat one. I was already regretting my offer to let him hang around next time. Vince was a nice guy, yes, but he was fucking exhausting.
I was just about to light up when I heard a knock at the door. I groaned and stomped over to unlock the deadbolt, the joint still dangling from the corner of my mouth. As I opened the door, I started to ask, “What did you forget this time, Vince?” and WHAM, a hand the size of a frying pan smacked into my face and shoved me across the room. I flew backward with my arms pinwheeling for balance, the broken remains of my doobie raining from my lips as I fell over the coffee table. I ended up wedged into the narrow space between the table and the couch, my arms and legs waving in the air as my nose trickled blood over my lips.
I had time to gasp, “What the fuck?” and then I was plunged into shadow as a hulking figure loomed above me. I was roughly hauled to my feet, and I found myself standing face-to-face with Len, my watcher in the night. Len looked absolutely fucking furious. His entire head was flushed as red as a brick. Not just his face, but his entire head, including his ragged cauliflower ears.
Len hauled me in close and growled, “You got one chance here, Dumbo, and only one. You lie to me and I’ll throw you out the window. Got it?”
I sniffled, “Yeah, I got it,” and Len nodded in approval.
“Good. Now, who’s the douchebag with the balding ponytail?”
“That’s my pot dealer,” I whimpered. “His name is Vincent.”
“Vincent the pot dealer. Okay, sure. So, what exactly did you and Vincent the pot dealer talk about this evening?”
I said, “Well, we talked about pot,” and Len twisted my ear until I shrieked for mercy. He clamped my head between his hands, squishing my face into a strange goldfish shape, and he barked, “That’s it, smart guy! You’re going out the fuckin’ window!”
I shrieked, “No, wait! Okay, okay! Um, he saw you looking up at my window and he assumed you were a cop. He’s a paranoid old hippie, so he always thinks the Man is out to get him. I told him you were just some guy sitting in his car and I changed the subject. He left after that.”
“Well, he’s not wrong,” Len said softly, and he released his crushing grip on my head. “The Man is out to get everyone.”
Len shoved his hands into his pockets and had a look around my apartment. He turned back to me and gravely shook his head.
“I didn’t have time to clean this week,” I stammered. “Or last week, for that matter. Don’t look at the mess and assume that I-”
“I’m not worried about your filthy crack-shack, kid,” Len snapped. “It’s the hippy. He gotta go.”
Hesitantly, I asked, “Where does he have to go?”
Len snorted in exasperation. He threw up his hands and rasped, “To the big sleep, ya fuckin’ half-wit! He saw me, and that’s no good. He’s gotta go.”
I gawked at my unwelcome visitor with my mouth hanging open in shock. I tried to offer a rebuttal, but all I could think was a rapid-fire stream of shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit-shit, and that wasn’t helpful at all.
“What?” Len demanded. “Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for? It’s all your fault for having Mister NosyPants over here in the first place. Look, I already know what’s gonna happen. Youse guys are gonna get stoned some night, he’ll ask about me again, and you’ll end up blabbing something you shoulda kept to yourself.”
Len shrugged at my horrified expression. He said, “I gotta do what I gotta do, kid. Protecting Victor Bonicelli and his interests, that’s my entire job description right there. This hippy is a loose end waiting to unravel. He’s a threat.”
Slowly, I said, “I can’t believe I’m in a position where I have to beg for my pot dealer’s life, but here we are. Look… please, please don’t do that, okay? Please? Vince is harmless. Even if he did know something, no one would ever believe him. He’s a flake. He thinks the moon is a projection and cancer isn’t real, for crying out loud. Believe me, no one listens to Vince. And I would never, ever tell him or anyone else about the zoo. I swear it.”
“Damn right you ain’t ever gonna tell no one,” Len agreed. “Because if you do-”
“I’ll disappear,” I interjected. “I already heard this spiel from Vic. I don’t particularly wanna end up as pig feed, so don’t worry. My lips are sealed.”
“When people tell me not to worry, I start worrying,” Len grated, and he turned to leave. As he was walking out the door, he looked back and said, “Do us both a favor and find yourself a new dealer. That’s an order.”
I started to close the door behind him, but Len abruptly stepped back into view and barked, “Hey! One more thing before I go.”
I flinched and reluctantly asked, “What is it?” with a twisting knot of dread in my stomach.
“Clean your apartment!” he snarled, and he made a sweeping motion with his hand at all the clutter. “This is a disgrace! Your mother should come over here and slap the shit outta you for living like this! Pick up your garbage and vacuum the carpet. Scrub that disgusting table with some lemon Pledge. You got a kitchen sink full of dirty dishes? Yeah, sure you do. Wash ‘em, you lazy fuck! Do you wanna get cockroaches or something? Jesus Christ, what a mess!”
Len gave my apartment one final look of revulsion and clomped away down the hall. I locked the door behind him and immediately started trembling from an overload of adrenaline. I leaned against the door and groaned, “This job fucking sucks.”
Much later that night, as I was laying on the couch and blinking owlishly at the TV, I realized something that made me burrow deeper into the safety of my blanket. There was only one way Len could’ve known what Vince and I had been talking about; at some point during the past week, my apartment had been bugged.
Monitoring my every move wasn’t good enough for Vic Bonicelli’s deeply-ingrained paranoia. He was listening, too.
#
The first thing I noticed as I pulled into the parking lot Sunday night was the sign on top of the building. This was the first time I’d ever seen it lit up at night, and it was nothing short of magnificent. The sign embodied Victor Boniccelli’s personality almost perfectly, a dizzying blend of crass glamor and sinister joviality. It lit up the night with breathless promises of danger and excitement, a monolithic and jubilant celebration of all things curious and arcane. I parked my car and sat there for a couple of minutes, staring up at the sign in awe through my scratched-up windshield. It was the perfect blend of Las Vegas and The Twilight Zone.
The second thing I noticed was the profusion of ultra-expensive vehicles, including several stretch limousines that were parked at the rear of the lot. I’d had a vague idea that the guests generally arrived after the Caretakers were done for the day, but I’d never really given them any further consideration. Judging from the vehicles in the lot, they were all extremely wealthy. These people didn’t just have money, they had “fuck you” money, and probably some more to spare.
I walked through the glittering display of wealth and approached the armed guards at the entrance with a lump in my throat. The guards were an interchangeable roster of dead-eyed henchmen, and none of them seemed to like me very much. I had the distinct impression they were all eagerly waiting for the day when Victor would give them permission to shoot me.
As I walked up the steps to the door, the guard on the left sneered, “Look what the cat dragged in.”
The guard on the right smirked at me and added, “Have fun with the spooks tonight, kid. If you see any guests in the lobby, just keep on walking. They don’t wanna talk to you.”
I muttered, “Gotcha, no talking,” and I brushed past them with my head down. I wanted to say something more along the lines of, ‘Go fuck yourself, you gorilla-looking piece of shit,’ but that was obviously not a wise decision. I contented myself with giving them the finger behind their backs. Small victories and all that jazz, I suppose.
The lobby was glowing with a mellow ambience of tasteful lighting and polished marble. I saw several people standing around the statue of the Hydra, laughing and talking with animated hand movements. They looked like they were half out of their minds with excitement. I gave them a wide berth and headed for the entrance to the service tunnels.
Kaz was already there, waiting for me with his arms folded across his chest. He eyed me sourly and grunted, “Are you ready for a very different experience? Come, we must prepare.”
Kaz ushered me to the equipment room and started rummaging around in a storage closet that was labeled ‘Other’. He handed me a utility belt and said, “Different jobs require different tools. When we work with the mortal creatures, we carry pepper spray and the tranquilizer gun. None of those weapons would be of any use against the undead.”
I looked through all the pouches and found a strange array of items, including a small mirror, a bag of tobacco, a bunch of glass beads, and a plastic pistol that made sloshing sounds when it moved around.
I asked, “Is this a water gun? This kinda feels like a water gun.”
“It is filled with a silver nitrate solution,” Kaz explained, and he handed me a chain made of silver. He motioned at the change rooms and said, “You must wear this chain at all times. Do not take it off under any circumstance. The undead despise silver. Do you have any questions?”
I told him I had many questions, too many questions, and Kaz tilted his head in a slight nod. “It can be difficult to understand,” he agreed. “Get changed, and please hurry. You arrived late. I would not bother with the chainmail tonight. It will not protect you.”
I massaged my temples against a looming headache and asked, “You’re shitting me, right? I mean, the sasquatch and all the rest of them… like, that’s still fucked up, but at least they’re alive, you know what I mean? We’re talking about life after death here, and I don’t know, man.”
“You do not believe, so it must not be,” Kaz snorted. “You remind me of a boy from back in my village. We called him Foolish Olaf. He attempted to milk a bull and suffered a fatal kick to the skull.”
I raised my eyebrows and protested, “How do I remind you of that guy? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“Because Olaf was stupid, and so are you,” Kaz growled. “No one was surprised when he died. Now do you see? Go get changed.”
Kaz brushed past me and stomped over to the changing rooms. I followed after him with my face flushed red with embarrassment. Each changing room door was marked with a nameplate… with one exception, of course. Mine still didn’t have a nameplate. I was officially known by my coworkers as Hey You; or even worse, I was acknowledged with a look of disgust and stony silence.
I briefly wondered if it would be funny to write some ridiculous name on the door myself - something goofy like Rock Hardbody or Flex Dangerhound - and a voice inside my head sneered, What the fuck is wrong with you, kid? It sounded suspiciously like Len, but I knew it was actually my own conscience telling me to grow the fuck up and start acting right. My job at the zoo wasn’t a joke, it was a very real situation. Kazimir, Vic, the monsters, the wiretaps in my apartment, all of it was very real, and I had to start taking it seriously, right now.
Ten minutes later, we were in the service tunnel. Kaz took me to the first door and tapped the observation window. He beckoned me to come have a look.
I read the identification plate on the door and breathed, “Oh, man. That’s rough.”
The plate said:
POLTERGEIST, FEMALE
DECEASED 11/08/1874
AGE 7 YRS.
“Her name was Katherine,” Kaz said. “She was murdered in her own home.”
I peered through the reinforced glass and discovered that Katherine’s habitat was a painstakingly accurate mockup of a Victorian era drawing room. The room was dimly illuminated by the stuttering flames of several kerosene lamps, creating a forest of wavering shadows among the dense clutter of furniture and knick-knacks.
“This is where she died,” Kaz murmured behind me. “Victor purchased the house and hired workmen to take the room apart, board by board. Everything was cleaned and restored to its original condition, and the room was reassembled within the habitat.”
I couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary happening on the other side of the glass. I asked, “Is she invisible or something? There’s nothing to see in there except a bunch of antiques.”
“All ghosts are invisible, ” Kaz retorted. “This one can be seen in a mirror that has been equipped with a silver backing. She can also be detected on film. If you must enter her cell, keep track of her with the mirror in your belt at all times. She can be very hostile. It is best to remain cautious.”
I searched through the pouches on my belt and pulled out a round, palm-sized mirror. I tilted it one way and saw nothing out of the ordinary, then tilted it the other way and almost dropped the damn thing in shock.
I cleared my throat and grunted, “Okay, there she is. Holy shit.”
Katherine was a diminutive scrap of a girl in a dark dress and a fancy hat, a ruffled little bonnet that was perched high atop her severed head. She was hugging her head to her chest with both arms. Her eyes were open, conscious, and horribly aware.
I stepped back from the door and scrubbed my hands over my weary face. The night had barely begun, and I was already tired. I asked, “How do you defend yourself against a poltergeist?”
“You cannot. However, if you are watching her in the mirror, she is unlikely to approach you.”
I chuckled at this a little bit and said, “Kinda like the ghosts in Super Mario 3. That’s wild.”
Kaz stared at me with a completely blank expression. Slowly, he asked, “What in the name of the heavens is Super Mario Three? What is this nonsense?”
I took another look into the habitat with the mirror and flinched. I said, “Nevermind. Let’s just move on. She’s, uh, she’s right on the other side of the door. She’s holding her head up to the window so she can look at us. Man, I’ll tell you something, okay? I am not going in there.”
Kaz lips twitched in a ghost of a smile, and he said, “Eh, it is probably for the best. You would forget to keep track of her location and get smeared across the ceiling. Who do you think would be made to clean up the mess?”
I cast an uneasy glance at the overhead lights and murmured, “You, hopefully.”
Kaz gave me a guarded smile and guided me down the corridor to the next habitat. It was time to meet the vampire.