Big Game (9 page)

“It's
pink
,” Summer pointed out.

“Mud comes in plenty of colors,” Hoenekker shot back. “Pink, red, orange, you name it. Usually when it's clay, rather than dirt.”

I nodded at this, thinking back to my life in Africa. There were lots of mud wallows in the jungle that had different colors. The rhinos loved to roll in them. Occasionally, you'd come across one smeared red, orange, or yellow, like a preschooler's art project. I'd never seen a pink one, though that didn't mean it wasn't possible. However, there was another problem with Hoenekker's suggestion. “There's no pink mud in the Asian Plains, though, is there?” I asked.

“This exhibit's a couple hundred square acres,” Hoenekker growled. “I haven't analyzed every bit of mud in it.”

“Mind if I see that?” Athmani asked, holding out his hand.

Hoenekker dropped the pink glob into his palm, and now Athmani took his time scrutinizing it. “Looks like mud to me, too,” he announced. “Rhonda probably wallowed in it somewhere out in the Asian Plains, then it dried on her and she rubbed it off in here.”

“But Rhonda hasn't been out in the plains for weeks,” Summer pointed out. “She's been in here, being pregnant.”

“There's no way to tell how old a piece of mud is,” Athmani countered. “This could have been wedged down there for a year.”

“Can I look at it?” I asked.

“For Pete's sake,” Hoenekker growled. “It's a piece of mud. It doesn't have anything to do with our shooter.” He turned to Athmani. “You bringing that rhino in or not?”

“I am,” Athmani said. He dropped the pink glob in my hand, then motioned for me to get out of the rhino pen.

I climbed over the rail, then took a look at the pink object myself. Summer leaned in as well. The pink thing certainly
felt
like clay. It was grainy enough that a little bit crumbled off in my hand. I even tried smelling it, but if it had a smell, it was overwhelmed by the odor of rhinoceros in the room.

“Could be old gum,” Summer suggested.

“I doubt it,” I said.

“Taste it,” she suggested.

I recoiled in disgust. “
You
can taste something off the floor of the rhino house if you want. I'll pass.”

Meanwhile, Athmani opened the food-storage closet. There was a great deal of hay inside, as well as a large plastic trash can filled with rhino kibble and some smaller bins with fresh fruits and vegetables in them. Athmani selected a carrot, then flipped a switch on the wall.

The gate between the rhino house and the rhino yard slid open.

Rhonda's ears swiveled toward the sound, and she perked up immediately.

Athmani waved the carrot in the air. “Want a treat?” he asked.

Rhonda quickly abandoned her trough—she appeared to have licked it clean—and trotted into the rhino house. She probably hadn't been able to see the carrot at all; instead, she had most likely smelled it. Rhinos have lousy eyesight, but their nostrils are big enough to inhale cue balls. In addition, Rhonda's upper lip was prehensile; it wasn't quite as useful as an elephant's trunk, but she could still grab things with it. Rhonda rested her enormous head atop the fence and extended her lip, reaching for the carrot, revealing her whole mouth. Her upper palate was almost as pink as the mysterious glob in my hand.

“Good girl,” Athmani told her, handing over the carrot.

The rhino happily gobbled it down, creating a staggering amount of slobber. Enough drool to drown a Chihuahua spilled out of her mouth and pooled on the floor.

Hondo shuddered and took a few steps back from the rhino, toward the door.

Athmani laughed at his reaction. “You're not afraid of Rhonda here, are you?”

“No,” Hondo said, way too defensively. It was an obvious lie.

“Come here and meet her,” Athmani offered. “She's gentle as a kitten.”

“I got scratched by a kitten once,” Hondo replied. “Needed fifteen stitches.”

“Rhonda doesn't even have claws,” Summer pointed out.

Hondo shrugged this off and edged closer to the door.

I held up the pink blob to give it one more look. Rhonda immediately mistook my movement, thinking I was handing her food. She suddenly lurched my way, thrusting her head over the rail as far as it would go and grabbing my hand with her prehensile lip.

Hondo shrieked in fear. “She ate his hand!”

“She didn't,” I told him. I'd actually been startled by Rhonda's sudden movement—it's always disconcerting to find your hand in a rhino's mouth—but I did my best to remain calm so Hondo wouldn't freak out. “Look. I'm okay.” I held up my hand to show him. It was slimed with rhino drool, but it was still there.

The pink blob was gone, though. Rhonda had eaten my evidence.

“Is there something I can dry my hand on?” I asked.

“Come anywhere near my dress with that slobber and I'll kill you,” Summer warned.

“I always use my shirt,” Athmani said.

There didn't seem to be any other option. While I was wiping my hand clean, Vicky Benbow entered the rhino house. Vicky was one of the evening keepers, responsible for making sure all the animals were housed and fed for the night. While she was great with the animals, she tended to be reserved and quiet around humans. She seemed startled to find so many people in the rhino house. “Um,” she said, sounding embarrassed, “I need to get Rhonda settled for the night.”

“I guess we should clear out of here, then,” Athmani said graciously. He looked to Summer and me. “Teddy, if you'd like, I can give you a ride home. And then take you back to your father, Summer.”

“That'd be great,” Summer said.

On a warm summer night, I usually would have opted to walk home through the zoo myself, but the temperature had plummeted with the darkness. “Sure,” I said.

We all headed for the door, except Chief Hoenekker, who hung back with Vicky. “I'd like to discuss the new rhino security protocols with you,” he told her.

Vicky looked like this was pretty much the last thing in the world she wanted to do, but she nodded acceptance. “Okay. I guess.”

I waved good-bye to them as we left the building. Vicky gave a meek little wave back. Hoenekker ignored me completely. “I don't expect we'll have any more trouble with this hunter,” I heard him tell her. “But just in case, I'm going to have two armed guards patrolling the park tonight.”

Athmani's safari rover was parked close to the rhino house. Hondo pointed both Summer and me to the backseat, then climbed into the front, where he could keep a better eye out for threats. Once we were buckled in, Athmani slowly drove through the Asian Plains. It was now dark, and he didn't want to run over any antelope.

As we jounced along, I asked Athmani, “Do you have any idea why the bad guy shot at Rhonda?”

Athmani met my gaze in the rearview mirror. “Based on my experience in Africa, I'd say they were after her horn. Right now Rhonda's would be worth around half a million dollars on the black market.”

“Half a million?” Summer gasped, stunned. “Holy cow.”

“But Rhonda was locked inside her house,” I pointed out. “So the hunter wouldn't be able to get her horn.”

“Unless whoever shot at her knew the entry code,” Summer suggested. “We already know they could get into FunJungle. So why not the rhino house, too?”

“Then why didn't they enter the house to shoot Rhonda?” I asked. “Why shoot from way over by the monorail station instead of doing it from close by?”

“Or why'd they go after Rhonda at all?” Summer added thoughtfully. “Why not one of the other rhinos that
wasn't
locked up last night?”

Athmani sighed. “Those are good questions,” he admitted. “I don't know the answers.”

I looked from the monorail station to Rhonda's house. The distance between them was almost the length of a football field. The shot wouldn't have been easy.

“Do you think Hoenekker's right?” I asked Athmani. “That we won't have any more trouble from the hunter?”

“No,” Athmani replied. “I don't think Hoenekker believes that himself. If someone took a shot at Rhonda once, there's no reason to think they wouldn't do it again. And you're right about our other rhinos. They need to be protected too. I've arranged for
all
of them to be housed indoors this evening. . . .”

“Where?” Summer asked.

“There are several other facilities like Rhonda's house in SafariLand. The other rhinos are all locked up safely inside them.”

“But the hunter shot at Rhonda while she was inside last night,” I pointed out.

“And they missed.” Athmani pulled up to the gate for vehicles to leave SafariLand. A sensor triggered it to open automatically. “Unfortunately, we don't have any better place to put the rhinos. The best I can say is, it'd be a very difficult shot to hit them through one of the windows—as we saw last night. They're certainly much safer indoors than outside. And the extra guards will hopefully frighten off our poacher.”

There was a large space to pull into beyond the auto gate with another gate on the other side. This was to ensure that, should one of the animals slip through the first gate along with the rover, it wouldn't be able to get past the second gate and escape into the park.

Athmani pulled into the space and waited for the first gate to close behind us.

“So all the rhinos now have as many guards as Rhonda?” Summer asked.

“Er . . . no,” Athmani admitted. “FunJungle doesn't have the staff to handle that. Your father is trying to hire more men, but it's not easy to find people we trust with weapons around the animals on short notice.”

The first gate clicked shut and a green light came on ahead of us to tell us it was safe to activate the second. Athmani pulled forward, and that gate began to open.

I asked, “You mean, you're worried the guards themselves might go after the animals?”

“If they're not carefully selected,” Athmani said. “Though I believe we can trust the men we have here tonight.”

The second gate opened fully, allowing us to drive into the employee area of the park. Hondo relaxed visibly now that we were away from the animals and surrounded by things he seemed more familiar with, like people and cement. Instead of staying in the employee area, Athmani veered through another gate, ending up on Adventure Road.

Although this was the main pedestrian route around the park, cars could drive on it after visiting hours. And they did. It was the best way to transport the enormous amount of food the animals needed each day—or to remove the enormous amount of garbage the visitors generated. At times it could be as crowded as a highway. Athmani weaved around a flatbed truck full of hay bales and headed for the employee housing area, where I lived.

“Will these new guards be permanent?” Summer asked.

“I'm not sure,” Athmani replied. “Why?”

“Because if they're only here for a few days, or weeks, maybe the poacher will just wait for them to stop working and then come back,” Summer explained. “And what protects the rhinos then?”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “We can't keep them inside forever, can we?”

“You're right,” Athmani said. “Ideally, the best scenario would be to catch this poacher quickly, but if we don't . . . I've suggested an alternative way to protect the rhinos, but I can tell you, it will be an uphill battle.”

“What's that?” I asked.

“We cut the horns off,” Athmani said.

Summer and I both gasped at the idea. My own reaction surprised me. After all, a rhino in the zoo didn't
need
its horn, but the idea of removing it seemed like a horrible act.

“That'd be like wiping the smile off the Mona Lisa,” Summer said.

“The difference is, no one is going to kill the
Mona Lisa
for her smile,” Athmani countered. “I didn't say it was a great solution, but it's a solution. It has been done many places in Africa. If you get rid of the horn, there's no reason for anyone to poach the rhinos.”

“Unless someone's going after Rhonda for some other reason,” I said.

“Like what?” Athmani asked.

“Wanting a dead rhino head to put on their wall,” I replied.

Athmani sighed. “I suppose that's possible, but I think someone wanting the horn is more likely. It'd be easier to steal the horn than a whole head.”

“Would taking the horn off hurt the rhino?” Summer asked.

“No,” Athmani replied. “There are no nerves in the horn itself. But it is still not an easy job. A veterinarian would have to do it.” Athmani pulled over by the rear employee exit from FunJungle. “Here you go, Teddy.”

“See you tomorrow?” Summer asked me.

“Sure,” I said. Normally, the idea of Summer asking to spend time with me would have been thrilling, but everything about the rhino was wearing me down. I climbed out of the rover and waved good-bye.

Summer waved back as Athmani drove away.

I left FunJungle and headed into the trailer park that served as employee housing, my mind full of questions. Was the hunter going after the horn, or another trophy from Rhonda—or, as my friends had suggested, were they looking to kill only for fun? But if it was for fun, why go after a rhino rather than any other animal? And if it was for the horn, why had the hunter gone after the one rhino that was locked up rather than any of the others that weren't? Was this tied to the candy store theft in any way—or was that an entirely separate crime?

As I wove through the trailers toward home, a thought nagged at me. I had the feeling there was something strange about the attempt on Rhonda that I'd missed, but I couldn't figure out what it was.

I rounded the final trailer and froze in astonishment. In addition to all the other mysteries of the day, there was now one more.