Chapter Six

Savage Sanctuary Island, Simon

S imon checked the cat pens one last time before he headed to his room. He received equal measures of growls and purrs from the lions, and hissing from smaller breeds. Overall, about half the cats were Simon-friendly and half were not. He fed them every meal they consumed, which gave him special privileges. He also knew all the cats were dangerous to most humans, even Indra. The large tiger had a calm reputation, but that meant nothing. He was still a wild animal. Simon always remembered that, and when it slipped his mind, he only had to look where his missing fingers should be .

He opened the door to the feeding hut, and the smell of old meat filled his nostrils. He didn’t mind; it was simply something that went along with caring for large cats.

His tiny bedroom, located on the far side of the hut, consisted of a single, wobbly bed that barely fit his girth and left his feet hanging over the end. He never bothered making it, and the covers were a rumpled mess. Using bricks and scrap wood, Simon had built a shelf unit that sat along one wall and held most of his clothes. It was so much better than living on the streets that no matter how it looked, Simon thought of it as his castle.

The bathroom was on the opposite side of the hut. The toilet and shower were old and yellowed, but they worked, and Simon valued being clean after a long day. It was something else he brought with him mentally. The ability to use the toilet and take a shower were part of his castle.

The center of the hut held a ten-foot-long metal prep table for butchering. He made his own meals there too. Four large freezers took up the most wall space. They held the frozen meat that was purchased in bulk.

He loved this place, smells and all.

Before Jerry brought him to the sanctuary, Simon had lived under a freeway overpass for a long time. He’d been raised in a group home, but after he turned eighteen, they’d kicked him out with an extra set of clothes and a hundred dollars. It was more money than he’d ever seen. It took two days before someone stole the money and clothes so he only had what he wore on his back. Those were the bad times when he was always hungry.

Simon couldn’t find a job due to the problems he was born with. Add in the lack of decent clothing, and he didn’t have a chance. People saw his size and their eyes grew large and fearful. Once they spoke to him, they snickered and made fun of who he was. The people on the streets were different. They minded their own business and didn’t want you in theirs. The isolation became his way of life. The world was a cruel place and Simon was kicked from one location to another by police until he found the overpass.

He didn’t like remembering his time at the group home or his time on the streets. One of the ladies at the home told him he was there because his mother didn’t want a brain-damaged baby. There was never any mention of a father, but most kids in the home didn’t have dads, and some never knew their mothers.

Simon lived in the same group home since he was a baby. His earliest memory was someone picking him up when he was crying and putting him in his room, then locking the door so he couldn’t get out. He was maybe three. There was never consistency, which he didn’t like. The adults who worked there, especially the nice ones, never stayed for long and the rules changed constantly .

That’s why he liked the sanctuary so much. It rarely changed. Jerry would always be mean. Simon would continue to give the cats the best life possible. For him, this was great. For the cats, Simon’s care might be the only kindness they’d ever had. They deserved freedom.

He hated what would happen to Carla and Tibby, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The state kept a close watch on legal cats, but the ones they didn’t know about fell through the cracks. Jerry had lectured him too many times on how much it cost to keep the sanctuary running. The money Carla and Tibby would bring from an illegal hunt would mean the other cats got special meals for a short time.

Jerry always told him he was broke and keeping the sanctuary open was hard. He’d warned for too many years to count that he would just close the place and get a job that would pay more. Simon believed the threat so he did the things he didn’t like doing. All but tying the chicken’s feet. That he could not do.

He spent extra time watching the two females while they ate that morning, his stomach not feeling well when he thought about what would happen to them. He loved them already, even though they only growled and snarled when he came around. They were frightened and they had good reason to be.

These thoughts tumbled through his head while he tried to fall asleep. When they wouldn’t go away, he took the blanket from the bed and headed to Indra’s cage. He’d done this many nights, and it was the safest time to spend with Indra because the darkness scared Jerry, and if he stayed overnight on the island, he never came close to the cages after the sun went down.

Indra gave a distinctive chortle when Simon unlocked his pen and came inside. He immediately walked up to the big man and rubbed his head over the side of Simon’s leg.

“I hope you need company,” Simon said and scratched his fingers into the dense fur.

He went to the corner, spread the blanket, and lifted the side so it half-covered him after he lay down. Indra took the other side, and Simon scooted into his warmth. They’d slept many nights this way. He inhaled the scent of tiger and the other smells from the night: saltwater, machine oil, which Simon used to oil the cage doors, a little mold, and a lot of Indra’s unique musk that was truly his own. Simon loved Indra’s scent the most, though he liked how all the cats smelled from day one.

Indra quieted quickly and fell asleep, which allowed Simon to drift off.

The humidity rose high during the night, giving a heavy feel to the air. Simon instinctually knew a large storm was moving in, possibly a hurricane. It could be a week before the actual storm hit, but if you knew the signs, it was easy to tell. The ache in his knees stayed in the background as he went about his day, keeping an eye on the sky.

After he finished the morning feeding, Jerry came to the hut to speak with him. “There’s a delay on the two females. It won’t be this week.”

Jerry knew that Simon was well aware of what happened when the cats were purchased but Jerry still talked in code. It was like he thought Simon wore a wire or something and would turn him in. If Simon could figure out a way to report Jerry and still care for his friends, he would have done it years ago. And yet, Jerry treated him like an outsider who was always out to get him.

“When will it be?” Simon asked, forgetting to slow his words.

Jerry’s eyes narrowed like they did whenever Simon spoke faster than usual or said something Jerry thought was beyond him. It was happening more and more because Simon forgot he had to keep talking like he was stupid and not use the big words he heard on the audio books.

During his childhood, Simon didn’t like to speak. His jaws were large, and words were sometimes hard to form. It wasn’t until he began working with the cats and whispering to them that the words became easier.

“You’re sounding educated,” Jerry accused. “Don’t think you’re fooling me. If I’m in trouble, you’re in trouble. These animals can live without you. They can’t live without the money I make for them.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Jerry,” he said.

“Cut the dumb act,” Jerry snapped.

Simon shuffled from one foot to another, not knowing how to respond. He lifted his gaze to Jerry’s, shuffled his feet again, and looked back at the floor.

“You really are a dumbass, aren’t you?” Jerry finally said.

Simon acted exactly as Jerry expected and didn’t answer. Jerry was the oblivious one, and Simon had figured that out the first year he’d worked for him. Due to Simon’s size, Jerry thought he would be good with the cats. He hadn’t been wrong, but it had nothing to do with his size. It was more about his demeanor, his soft voice, and that he was the one who fed them.

“The weatherman says another tropical storm is building, and it could turn into a hurricane. Double-check the cages twice until it passes,” Jerry ordered. He never stayed on the island during storms. Simon had figured out that he was too afraid of the cats and wouldn’t take a chance that they would get loose. Simon smiled as soon as Jerry turned his back and walked out.

If Jerry did stay on the island, he would have a right to be afraid. The storm probably kept the hunters away from the island too. It all worked in Simon’s favor because the cats needed a break, and the storm would provide it.

He cleaned cages, gave Milo an antibiotic injection after examining his stitches, and checked on the lighthouse before he finished for the day. The lighthouse ensured that boats didn’t get caught on the rocks during a storm on the backside of the island.

The front or southern part of the island had a large lagoon where the boat docked. A fence enclosed the area from the dock to the buildings. A locked gate at the end of the fence blocked normals from entering until Jerry unlocked it. They never disembarked until Jerry radioed Roberto who unlocked the gate and welcomed the guests. There was a one-story building that housed the cafeteria, giftshop, and Jerry’s office which had the apartment connected behind it where he lived when he stayed overnight on the island. Another building sat to the side which held the three apartments that backed up to the cat enclosures.

If you divided the island into three sections, there was the area the normals saw, the back area that held the real cages the cats used when they weren’t staged, along with the hut that Simon lived in, and what they called the jungle. Jerry had never had a third of the island cleared, and it was overgrown and swampy. This made it more real for the cat hunters, and they paid extra for the experience of hunting in a so-called jungle.

Roberto, Simon’s friend, handled the gate and did maintenance around the island, but he left each day on a small boat and didn’t spend the night. Yolanda, his wife, cooked and generally ran the cafeteria; she left with him each evening.

Simon liked them both. They came to work on the island about ten years after him and they quickly became part of his family. Yolanda made Simon special food, just like he did for the cats. He’d pretended they were his parents in the beginning. It would have been nice if they had been, but Simon knew how lucky he was to live how he did and do a job he loved.

Jerry also hired a few young, pretty girls who waited on the normals in the gift shop and helped Yolanda in the cafeteria. They made Simon nervous because if they didn’t look fearfully at him, they giggled and laughed. He didn’t know which was worse. Thankfully, they never stayed on the island overnight.

Simon tried not to dwell on the bad things because it made him grumpy and sad, but in his heart, he knew the island was an evil place.