hose seven days of waiting were totally unlike the rest of the time he had spent in Taronga. The real change, as he knew well enough, lay in himself, though still he couldn’t avoid the suspicion that it was Taronga itself that had changed. Ever since Molly’s mention of the Doomsday plan, it was as if the whole hillside had thrown off its former disguise of refuge and revealed its true underlying nature. This new, less benevolent image was something Ben found difficult to live with. No longer could he enjoy walking along the deeply shaded lower paths, not with the lingering reek of death in the air. Nor was the rest of the park any more acceptable. On the upper paths he was confronted by the stark outline of the ruined city; while in the main body of the Zoo the many cages, which he had hardly been conscious of before, now challenged him at every turn – as did the armed men and women who herded the animals, their jungle-green uniforms always in evidence. Wherever he went, every sight and sound filled him with the unhappy conviction that he and all that he held dear were living on borrowed time.

He was no stranger to such a feeling. He had experienced it once before, when he had lived with his parents at Coogee, during Last Days. Then too the nights had been disturbed by screams, the days marked by a growing tension; he and his parents aware that the flimsy remains of peace and order could collapse at any moment.

Now, locked in Taronga with people like Molly and Steve, the ruthless survivors of Last Days, he felt as though he were living through that same process all over again. His only immediate escape was into sleep – his hours of rest, since the visit to Chas, not quite so plagued by nightmare as they had been. He still dreamed of the ambush on the road, of the wounded dingo, of the dog’s trusting eyes, but those memories, although still painful, had lost some of their nightmare quality and he no longer awoke sweating and in anguish. Rather it was the waking world that he dreaded: a world of guns and cages and the certain promise of cruelty and violence.

Like Ellie, who had warned him weeks earlier about Taronga, he was now faced with the daily task of hiding his feelings from the people around him. It was always a relief to creep away with Ellie and discuss their plans for the night of the break-in. During those few brief hours he was free to speak his mind. For the rest of the time he had to carry on the charade of contentment.

There was no pretending with Raja, however. Increasingly sensitive to Ben’s thoughts and moods, the tiger understood instinctively that some drastic change had taken place in him. Night by night he became less difficult to handle, the remains of his gnawing hatred gradually dissolving as he came to realise that Ben, in some inexplicable way, was a creature like himself – trapped, at bay before the other human beings. Yet that growing realisation, although it removed much of the enmity between them, failed to establish any lasting trust. Still Raja held back, unsure, suspicious of this boy who had once imposed his will so ruthlessly upon him; the new and the old images of Ben existing side by side in his mind in a kind of uneasy alliance that bewildered him.

This strange mixture of familiarity and distrust was clearly reflected in their regular confrontations. Each evening when Ben Called to him, he would respond eagerly at first, bounding across his cage towards the open door. Only when he caught sight of Ben’s face would he hesitate, drawing up with a baffled growl, shaking his head from side to side. The cause of his disquiet was only too visible. The wound Ben had received had formed a dark brown scab that gave him an odd appearance: one half of his face unblemished, as it had always been; the other half deeply altered. It was that contrast which troubled Raja, echoing as it did his own internal conflict.

‘Come, Raja, come,’ Ben would murmur coaxingly.

And the tiger would creep forward, almost convinced by Ben’s soothing tone, his burning eyes fixed upon the wound which ran from Ben’s temple down to the line of his jaw. Then some slight movement would highlight the other half of Ben’s face and he would pause, snarling in bewilderment, lashing out at this physical likeness of his old enemy and keeper.

There was nothing Ben could do to resolve the dilemma. Regardless of how he acted, Raja remained torn between acceptance and rejection of him.

‘What can I do?’ he asked Ellie in desperation.

‘Give him time,’ she said.

‘We don’t have much time,’ he objected. ‘It’s running out.’

‘Then why worry? What does it matter as long as we’re successful in the end?’

But it did matter to Ben, though he would have found it difficult to explain why. More than anything else he wanted to win Raja’s trust, as if that alone could put to rest the ghosts of the past, make a lasting peace with his guilty memories. And with each passing day – the remaining time slipping like fine sand through his fingers – his need to establish a trusting relationship with Raja grew ever more urgent.

Raja, meanwhile, was driven by a similar sense of urgency. Perplexed and also fascinated by his conflicting views of Ben, he again took to lying in wait for him: not now with thoughts of ambush, but merely to watch him, as though the repeated sight of Ben’s face could solve the mystery of his identity. When Ben released him in the early dusk, he no longer made for the wall at the bottom of the slope. Instead, he followed Ben up to the restaurant: stealing through the bush that bordered the path; sometimes circling around towards the rotunda and peering out from its dark interior.

He would still be there, patiently waiting, in the early hours of each morning when, with everyone else asleep, Ben would open the upstairs window and crawl down the tiled roof, dropping silently onto the driveway. Without revealing his nearness, Raja would stalk around the end of the building, keeping the boy always in view; watching as the puny human arm groped for something on the wall and pulled it downwards – growling softly as blue sparks crackled in the darkness.

The first time that occurred, the night after his interview with Chas, Ben was not aware of Raja’s presence until after he had cut the power controlling the alarm system. As he eased the switch to the ‘off’ position, he heard a rumbling growl and spun around. He fully expected Raja to charge and was ready to repulse the attack. But nothing happened, the animal content simply to watch him from a distance.

Ben continued to feel Raja’s eyes upon him as he stole down the hillside. Several times, hearing a faint rustle of movement, he stopped and peered into the bushes; but it was impossible to separate the long striped body from the surrounding shadows and he soon hurried on. Ellie was already waiting for him when he reached their rendezvous point – a cage that had once housed wedge-tailed eagles, but which now, with the eagles long since flown, was used as a stall for small antelope.

‘What kept you?’ she asked impatiently.

He pointed back up the hillside. ‘It’s Raja, he’s following me.’

‘Is he dangerous?’

Ben probed questioningly into the darkness. ‘No, not dangerous,’ he said, trying to think of the right word to describe what he had just encountered. ‘He’s sort of . . .curious.’

‘Then let’s not worry about him,’ she said decisively. ‘Come on, we don’t have much time. We can’t leave the power off too long, just in case someone checks up.’

Together, they made for that part of the fence where they had previously dug the escape trench. Overgrown and sheltered from the rest of the park, it was as good a place as any for them to start. Dragging the bolt-cutters from the clump of bushes where they lay hidden, Ben set about cutting a large opening in the woven mesh of the fence. It was hard work, each metal strand having to be clipped through, and Ben soon passed the cutters to Ellie, the two of them taking it in turns, hurrying to complete as much of the job as possible, but at the same time taking great care not to damage any of the fine alarm wires.

Ben stepped back at last, his face and body streaming with sweat. ‘That’ll have to do for tonight.’

Between them they had almost finished cutting out a great opening in the fence. Only a few strands now held the cut-out portion in position; yet because of the ivy swarming all over the mesh, it was impossible to spot the damage.

‘D’you think anyone’ll notice?’ Ellie asked.

‘Not unless they lean against it, and that’s not likely.’

Ben took the bolt-cutters and tossed them back into the bushes. Only then, as the heavy body crashed hastily away, did he remember about Raja.

‘He must have been right there,’ he said wonderingly, ‘watching us all the time. So close!’

Ellie shrugged, not really concerned. ‘At least he had a look at what we’re doing,’ she answered. ‘Maybe that’s a good thing. When the time comes, he’ll be less likely to give us any trouble.’

‘Let’s hope so.’

But they had both misunderstood the reason for Raja’s nearness. It wasn’t their activity at the fence, but Ben himself who drew him – his brooding, amber-coloured eyes, as he had lain only paces away in the cover of the bushes, focussed exclusively on that human face in which he could discern both enemy and friend.

From then on he followed them every night, whether they were cutting the fence at the top of the hillside or on the far boundary overlooking the harbour. As they worked, he would edge forward, sometimes startling them by his nearness. He never attacked: his body poised, balanced, but with its great strength contained; his haunches gathered beneath him, ready for that final spring which he was too undecided to make.

It was the same on the sixth and final night of their secret activity. Ben and Ellie were working on the fence just behind the restaurant where Ben, true to his promise, had made a start on a hole just big enough for a man to crawl through.

‘Why not leave it to Chas to cut?’ Ellie suggested, anxious about being discovered now success was so near.

‘I can’t,’ Ben said. ‘This hole was my excuse for asking for the bolt-cutters. We don’t want him getting suspicious.’

‘Well don’t cut too much,’ Ellie advised. ‘That way you’ll slow them down a bit.’

He nodded, completing about two-thirds of the circle. ‘That should look pretty convincing,’ he said, ruffling the ivy back into place. ‘It’s up to Chas now.’

Shouldering the heavy bolt-cutters, he turned – only to find his way barred by Raja.

‘Back, Raja,’ Ellie murmured, fearing he was about to strike.

Neither Raja nor Ben heard her, each too obsessed with the other’s nearness; and also too surprised to throw up any protective barrier. Defenceless, without reserve, they gazed into each other’s eyes; not fully understanding what they saw; knowing only that they had reached a moment of choice. Yet it was too early, neither of them ready for it; and as though by mutual consent, they both backed warily away.

‘Soon,’ Ben whispered, not taking his eyes from the tiger, ‘soon.’

The repetition of that one word seemed to sound a jangling note for both of them. Even as he spoke it, Ben felt uneasy; and Raja, moving almost too quickly for the eye to follow, leaped off into the darkness.

‘What happened there?’ Ellie asked, startled.

Again Ben barely heard her. With a sense of shame, he was remembering another occasion when he had repeated that one short word – ‘soon’. He had been speaking to the dog, the night before they had ridden into Sydney; and then too he had meant it as an assurance, a kind of promise.

He looked directly at Ellie, her face, as always, open and without guile. ‘I made a vow once,’ he said slowly, ‘that I’d never Call again. And soon afterwards I broke it.’ He paused briefly. ‘Well this time it’s going to be different,’ he went on in a determined voice. ‘Whether or not things work out tomorrow night, it’ll be the last time I’ll ever Call. No matter what happens afterwards. I swear it.’

The shutters were in place, the lamps lit. Ben heard the back door open and close as Steve came in, the heavy bolts already being driven home.

‘I’ve checked the alarm,’ Steve called out.

Molly immediately began ringing through to the other centres, ensuring that all the animals were caged. Not until she had finished did she glance across at Ben. ‘Get moving,’ she said curtly ‘quick as you can.’

It was a sequence of events they had kept rigidly to ever since the previous break-in. As usual Ben left the restaurant at a run, but this time he didn’t hurry straight down to the tiger cages. When he had gone only a short distance he stopped and, in the failing light of early evening, doubled back to the restaurant where he crept silently along the back wall and turned off the power. That done, he made his way quickly to what had once been known as the rainfall aviary, a tall, airy, modern structure close to the upper ponds. Unlatching the end door, he pulled it open and breathed in the warm dusty smell of herbivorous animals. He could see little of the interior, but he could hear a steady munching and the rustle of hooved feet on the straw-strewn ground.

‘Come,’ he Called softly, ‘come.’

There was another sound now, of animals lurching to their feet. He detected an initial, faint response of fear, and stilled it at once with another soothing Call. Already he could see the animals appearing out of the gloom: the elegant heads of antelope; the heavy, curving horns of the barbary sheep; the flaring, tree-like antlers of stags; the more familiar shapes of sheep and cattle. They came towards him in small tight-knit groups, quiet, trusting, following him out through the open door and along the winding paths.

In the gathering darkness he paused at other aviaries and cages where he released more animals: giraffes, camels, lamas, kangaroos, some of the larger antelope. Until soon there was a lengthy procession streaming along behind him, all of them docile and accepting of his leadership, silent but for the faint click of hooves on the hard surface.

Calling softly and persistently, he led them up the topmost path towards the former education centre, branching off to the left and following the line of the fence to where he knew Ellie was waiting.

She stepped out of the shadows ahead of him. ‘I was getting worried,’ she said in a low voice.

‘It’s all right,’ he assured her. ‘We still have time, and these are all the animals in the upper section. How’ve you been doing?’

She pointed back across the hillside. ‘I’ve finished cutting the fence on the far boundary.’

‘And here?’

But he could already see: just enough light remaining to show him the great hole in the fence, even the fine alarm wires cut through.

‘Ah yes,’ he said, but not moving, feeling suddenly less certain now that he was faced with an actual breach in Taronga’s defences.

‘We’d better get them through,’ she suggested.

Still he didn’t move – looking back along the line of animals that were waiting patiently for his decision; conscious, even in the deepening dusk, of their eyes upon him; their minds open, receptive, ready to obey.

‘What’s the matter?’ Ellie asked.

She stepped towards him, her thin fingers grasping his arm, shaking him slightly, as though trying to awaken him from a trance.

‘Some of them’ll die out there,’ he murmured, his voice heavy with misgiving. ‘Perhaps most of them.’

‘We’ve already been through all that,’ she said quickly.

‘I know. But they trust us. They . . .’

‘Listen,’ she interrupted, ‘they’re going to die in here too. You know that. At least they’ll be free out there, they’ll have a chance. Some of them’ll make it to the bush.’

‘And if they don’t?’

She shook him again, more roughly. ‘What are you trying to do?’ she said angrily. ‘Play at being God? The rest’s not for us to decide. All we can do is what’s best for them now.’

Their raised voices had begun to disturb the waiting animals, some of them throwing up their heads, others edging away from the fence. It was these signs of alarm, as much as Ellie’s arguments, which restored some of Ben’s resolve.

‘I hope we’re right,’ he said, and walked rapidly through the opening and out into the light scrub beyond.

From there he Called to the animals while Ellie urged them on from behind. The leaders, a group of eland, stepped up to the hole and stopped, their nostrils flaring the wind, testing the strange scents which drifted in from the ruined city. They hesitated, sensing the broad, unexplored spaces that awaited them, the other animals pressing forward, pushing against them. Then, slowly and deliberately they took their first steps out into the open, their flanks quivering with expectation.

‘Go,’ Ben commanded, ‘go!’

With short surging leaps they swept past him, out into the danger and freedom of the night: their sudden rush causing a minor stampede, the rest of the animals bursting through the fence and crashing off in pursuit. Only the giraffes balked slightly, having to duck their long necks beneath the top of the opening; but once clear of the wire they too galloped away.

Ben walked slowly back into Taronga. He appeared dazed, frightened by what they had just achieved. By contrast Ellie was elated, too excited at first even to sympathise with him.

‘We’ve done it!’ she said happily. ‘They’re free! Whatever else happens tonight, it’ll all be worthwhile.’

When he failed to respond, she took him by the shoulders and looked into his troubled eyes. ‘Come on, Ben,’ she encouraged him, ‘there’s a lot still to do.’

But momentarily all he could think of was the dog, abandoned and without protection within the savage heart of the city. ‘What if . . .?’ he began uncertainly.

‘It’s too late for ifs,’ she broke in. ‘We’ve got to finish what we’ve started. If we stop now, people like Chas and Steve’ll be out there tomorrow hunting the animals down. Is that what you want?’

He shook his head. ‘You know what I want,’ he said more steadily.

‘Then what are we standing here for? You said yourself, just freeing the animals isn’t enough. We’ve got to make sure the cats are the only ones who follow them, and there’s only one way of doing that. Bloody hell, Ben, it was your idea! A way of giving Raja and the rest of them the chance they deserve!’

That roused him completely: made him think not of the dog, but of Raja pacing restlessly within his cage. He looked about him, noting with concern how close to night it was.

‘Here,’ Ellie said, groping in the long grass, thrusting the bolt-cutters towards him. ‘You’ll need these. I’ll see you in about half an hour, after I’ve got the animals out on the far side.’

‘And the people in the house?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said with an uncertain smile, ‘I haven’t forgotten. I’ll bring them over as soon as the shooting starts.’

He wanted to tell her to be careful, not to get involved in the fighting, but she had already gone, her lithe body flitting off into the shadows. He too began to run, back towards the restaurant – pausing outside only long enough to hide the bolt-cutters in a clump of bushes and then bursting in through the front door.

‘What the hell!’ Molly shouted as he rushed across the main room.

He stumbled against the counter, feigning breathless excitement. ‘Something’s going on,’ he gasped, ‘just outside the fence! People all over the place!’

‘Which part of the fence?’ Molly asked sharply.

He pointed in the direction of the kitchen. ‘Right there, behind the building. I think they’re going to break in.’

Molly looked at Steve who hurried to the stairs and shouted. There was a clatter of footsteps and people came leaping down.

‘Could you lead an armed group out there?’ Molly asked Ben.

‘Better not to,’ he advised, ‘not yet, anyway I’ve got a bunch of the cats near that part of the fence. Ellie’s out there with them, making sure they don’t slink off. They should be able to handle it. But be ready just in case anyone gets through.’

While he was speaking, Steve began dragging boxes in from the next room and distributing guns and ammunition. For the first time ever he offered Ben a gun, but he refused it, already sidling towards the door.

‘Where’re you going now?’ Molly called after him.

‘I want to keep an eye on things.’

She frowned. ‘Maybe you should stay in here for a while,’ she advised. ‘One of you out there should be enough’

He felt a flutter of panic in the pit of his stomach. ‘It’s up to you,’ he said carefully, knowing from experience that there was no point in openly opposing her. ‘But with two of us, we’ll stand a better chance of warning you if things get real bad.’

‘I think he’s right,’ Steve cut in. ‘If we know when they’re coming, we can have a little reception party waiting.’

He raised one of the guns and cocked it, as if to demonstrate his point. Molly relaxed, a thin smile creasing her lips.

‘All right,’ she conceded, ‘but keep your eyes peeled.’

‘We won’t miss a thing,’ he promised her. ‘If the situation does get rough, we can always bring people over from the house or down from up top.’

‘That’s good thinking,’ Molly said. ‘I’ll tell them to be ready, just in case.’

As she reached for the phone, Ben scurried for the door, throwing the bolts and slamming it closed behind him.

It was almost dark now, later than he had bargained for, the minutes slipping away from him. There was no time to finish cutting the fence first, as he had intended. Retrieving the bolt-cutters from the bushes, he ran down to the elephant house where he flung the doors wide open. It was not easy hiding his sense of urgency, trying to appear calm and at ease, but he managed it somehow, Calling soothingly into the darkness. Once again the animals responded readily, moving out into the open, following him down towards the aviaries just below the tiger cages.

But already his task was becoming more difficult. The cats in the nearby cages, frustrated by their confinement and scenting the live game outside, began roaring angrily. And the animals following Ben, unnerved by the noise, milled about him in terror. Controlling them as best he could, he worked faster than ever, tugging open the mesh doors of the aviaries, adding more and more animals to the unruly procession. Soon he had freed all but the rhinos in the near corner of the park, and it was impossible to go down there now – not with the herd he had collected already on the point of rushing blindly away into the darkness.

Calling strongly and insistently, he set off at a run, animals of all shapes and sizes surging after him, jostling to keep up. Almost lost amongst the mass of heavy bodies and horned heads, he skirted the tiger cages and made for the weak point in the fence. Again the animals milled about him as he groped amongst the ivy, hastily locating the few uncut links in the mesh. It took him only a few minutes to snip through these – and even less to cut the fine alarm wires which stood out clear of the ivy. With the last strand severed, he pushed on the fence, expecting the whole section of cut mesh to fall easily away. But although it bulged outwards under the pressure, it remained in place, held there by the tangle of ivy.

‘Come on!’ he muttered desperately, heaving at the wire.

He knew he had little time left, and still there were Raja and the other cats in the building to be released. Yet no matter how hard he pushed and heaved, still the coiling mass of greenery resisted him.

Panting, temporarily drained of energy, he leaned his forehead against the cool green leaves. And at that moment the sound he had been both dreading and anticipating burst out across the hillside: a sharp volley of gunfire, coming from somewhere near the restaurant.