Chapter Two

The Island

Simon looked up at the sky, his overly large head going back so far he stumbled and righted himself. He scratched his beard as he watched clouds building in the distance. Jerry, his boss, worried about storms, but Simon liked them. The cats liked them too.

He lowered his head and moved to the first pen to feed Carla and Tibby, the female lions brought in together a week before. The bucket of food he carried consisted of horse and chicken meat. It was cheaper than beef, and they raised the chicks on the island, so that was cheaper still. Savage Big Cat Sanctuary cost a lot of money to run and Jerry was always yelling at Simon about food expenses and vet bills.

Simon approached the pen and Carla's teeth bared while she made a low grumbling noise of displeasure. Tibby, the smaller of the two, huddled in the back of the cage, her fangs showing though she didn't make a sound. Simon didn't really know their story, and he didn't know them. This was important because he tried to build rapport with all the cats and mostly he was successful. For Carla and Tibby, he would need to wait and see.

Tibby came forward when the food was offered so Carla didn't eat it all. Simon backed away so they were more comfortable, though their eyes stayed on him the entire time they devoured their food. He watched them for several minutes before he went back to the hut for more meals. His next trip to the larger pen would require him to carry four buckets at one time. That was okay; he was big and strong.

The problem with Simon wasn't his size. He'd been born with the umbilical cord wrapped around his neck, and he didn't breathe right away. They said it damaged his brain. Simon wasn't sure about that. A man didn't need to know more than his job required, and Simon knew everything about the cats. They loved him, or at least some of them did. He loved them all, even the mean ones. It wasn't their fault.

The cats were rescued from zoos and private owners. Savage Island made its money off people visiting and seeing the rescued cats in their natural habitat. It was all for show because when normals weren't on the island, the cats were kept in small cages and bad things happened. He hated thinking about the bad things.

Normals were not cat people. They wanted to stare, watch them eat, and pat themselves on the back for donating money to a good cause. They thought the cats were better off than if they were out in the wild, which simply wasn't true. Simon knew this because no matter what people called him, he wasn't stupid. His job was to care for the cats, and he was very good at his job.

Simon saved his favorite cage for last. He went back to the hut for tastier food because he liked to spoil Indra. Unlike the other cats, he entered Indra's cage and pet the large head that rubbed against his side. Indra was an eight-foot-long Bengal tiger who weighed over three hundred pounds.

"How are you, buddy? I brought one of your favorites as a surprise."

Indra never attacked his food. He loved Simon and always wanted affection first. Rubbing Indra's head was no hardship. The sleek fur was coarser than a house cat"s but less rough than a lion"s. His head had the softest fur on his body, but Simon knew Indra loved belly scratches the most, so after the greeting, he sat down beside the cat, who immediately rolled to his back in expectation.

Tigers can"t purr, but Indra made deep chuffling sounds that meant he liked what Simon was doing. A few minutes passed before Simon stood and walked to the bucket. He spilled the contents on the cage floor so Indra could eat his special treat first, which was a whole chicken, feathers and all. Simon had found the dead chicken in the enclosure that morning. The hen was old and, within the next few weeks, she would have been used as a meal anyway. Simon didn"t like when animals in his care died, but Indra got a treat, so he tried not to let the death bother him.

He walked slowly to the corner of the pen. He respected Indra and understood that the tiger, acting on instinct, could hurt or kill Simon without meaning to. He sat down and pulled his own breakfast from his pocket. It was a burrito wrapped in plastic that Yolanda at the cafeteria had given him. He slowly peeled back the wrapping and waited for Indra to investigate.

The big cat moved with grace and power, so quiet and stealthy, it was almost like he was stalking Simon. Indra wasn't aware that his size alone intimidated people. He had been a bottle-fed cub, raised by a private illegal owner. The man got caught running a scam, and Indra was confiscated by the local wildlife center. Eventually, they placed him on the island. Simon knew these things because the librarian at the library in the city had read the newspaper article about Indra to him. It was also why he knew the tiger"s name and what it meant. Indra was named after the Hindu god of thunder and war, a fitting name for the goliath beast with the heart of the most precious golden retriever.

With the help of the librarian, Mrs. Miller, Simon was learning to read. Most words were still too difficult, and even when he slowly sounded them out, they didn't make sense. He knew one day he would understand more and Mrs. Miller told him to be patient with himself.

Simon had to keep his attempts to read a secret. Jerry didn't want him to learn anything other than caring for the cats and if he knew Simon might read someday, Jerry would fire him. If that happened, Simon didn't know what he would do. The animals needed him.

He tore a small piece of his burrito off and offered it to Indra. The cat sniffed before he delicately removed it from Simon's fingers.

"You have your own, so go eat it," he told the old cat. Indra was eleven, and tigers in captivity only lived between fifteen and twenty years.

Indra wandered back to his food and began eating his surprise first, just how Simon knew he would. The cat was always curious about what Simon ate, but he only needed a taste to know the food on the ground was better.

When Simon finished his meal, he stood slowly and walked to the door of the cage. He never approached Indra when he ate. He looked at his left hand where three fingers were missing and tried not to think about the pain or the infection that had kept him in bed for weeks. Simon had placed his hand through the bars to pet a male lion named Cleveland. He hadn"t been paying attention to the lion"s agitation and had no idea that one of the females in the next pen had gone into heat.

In the wild, Cleveland would have followed the female around until she allowed him to mate with her. The male lion"s frustration from being kept away from her was very real and it cost Simon his fingers. Good lessons worked like that, and he paid closer attention now, no matter what was going on in the rest of the sanctuary.

Simon turned the corner of the long trail and stopped.

"You weren't in the pen with that animal again, were you?" Jerry yelled, his face reddening.

Jerry, with slicked back stringy hair, his face thin with prominent cheek bones and a nose that was too sizes too big, owned the island and the cats. He stood a little over five feet and twitched nervously whenever he was close to the cats. He always complained about business and Simon's failure to understand how tight money was.

Simon looked down at his feet, not meeting the shorter man"s eyes. "No sir, Mr. Jerry. Through the bars, like you showed me."

Jerry continued to stare for a moment but Simon knew he hadn't seen him in Indra's cage.

"Be sure it stays that way," Jerry finally said. "I'm watching the weather and there's a tropical storm building to the south of us. Be sure the animals are secure. If the storm passes in time, we'll have a big weekend."

To Jerry, they were always just animals. He didn't take time to learn their names or make friends with any of them. He cared about making money and to do that he had to break rules. Simon hated those broken rules but he knew nothing about business. Jerry was the smart one and Simon did as he was told.

When USDA inspectors came to the island, Simon wasn't allowed to speak to them and he was told to stay out of sight as much as possible. He overheard Jerry telling one inspector that Simon had been deaf and dumb since birth. It had made Simon sad that Jerry lied about him. Though this happened years ago, since that day, Simon wanted to be smarter. To do that, he had to read and that was why Mrs. Miller helped him. She showed him books that came with cassette tapes so that he could follow the words. She gave him a tape and letter book that explained what sounds went with what letter. He'd sneaked them to the island and hid them in his room, which was built onto the hut where the food was kept.

Mrs. Miller also gave him novels on tape for adults. He couldn't read the books yet, but he liked the stories and he learned about the world. Espionage thrillers were his favorite, but he'd also listened to James Herriot and learned about caring for different animals. If Simon could be anything he wanted, he would be a veterinarian.

At night, Simon struggled through the words in story books made for children. He tried not to bang his fists against anything in frustration because when that happened, things broke. He promised himself that one day he would be smart.

Simon lifted his head and looked into Jerry's eyes. "I always make sure the animals are secure," he lied.