Visitors returned in trickles, drawn by rumors of unrest. They pressed close to the enclosure, gasping at the tigers’ size, at their restless pacing. Parents pulled their children back nervously. Zachary overheard one boy whisper, “Do you think they still remember the dog?” He bit his tongue hard to keep from answering.
The storm hit on a Thursday, rattling the zoo with wind that shook fences and toppled branches. Power flickered, alarms buzzed, and somewhere in the chaos, a latch failed. Zachary arrived at the tiger enclosure to find keepers shouting, lights flashing. One gate hung open. His blood froze.