Epilogue

Near Midnight at the Place Formerly Known as the St. Aves Zoo

S ilence surrounded us, as did the ruins of the once-lively zoo. Even the angry ostrich no longer screeched; I could only assume it had found a place to sleep, hopefully free of the troubling dreams I knew I would have for the rest of my life.

The caretaker looked up at the sky. “It is late. Almost midnight.”

I suspected the penguin caretaker would not remain human much longer.

The full moon shone over us. Once upon a time I did not fear midnight and full moons, but once upon a time is for fairy tales, and this was no fairy tale. Oh, how I wished it were!

“Tomorrow I will be back,” I promised. “And I will take you and the penguins with me to your new home. You will all live happily, hopefully ever after but who’s to say? Still, you deserve a better tomorrow, after all the horrible pasts you’ve survived.”

“Thank you, my friend,” said the man, bowing. Again, he looked up at the moon shining overhead. “I will stay here for the night.” He stepped toward the maintenance shack behind him.

“You will be transforming, then?” I asked. The man did not respond. I smiled at him. “Good night, Bolt.”

The man looked back, staring at me, his eyes flickering red, but only for a moment. “Excuse me. What did you just call me?”

“Bolt, of course. Or do you prefer your full name: Humboldt? Or should I call you Mr. Wattle? If so, please forgive my familiarity.”

The man’s eyes flashed red again and his skin seemed to ripple. He opened the door to the shack and said, “You have made a mistake, my friend. My name is not Bolt.”

“Then how can you know his story so well? If you’re not Bolt, then who are you?”

Without answering my question, the man stepped inside the small building, closing the door behind him.