She didn’t say anything. I chose to take that as an admission that this was the only way, and jogged faster, trying to keep myself as calm as possible under the circumstances. Panic would just slow me down and reduce Shelby’s chances.

How deep had the knife actually gone into her body? How much blood had she lost? Questions warred with my absence of answers, but only briefly: then guilt showed up, and was more than happy to take over for everything else that I might be feeling. I ran, and kept running, until I reached the wood gate that would lead to the loading area. I shifted Shelby enough to free my right hand, undid the latch, and slipped quickly through, trying to tell myself that her unresponsiveness wasn’t a bad sign.

I wasn’t really listening by that point.

Luck was with us, in a small way: there was no one in the loading area. I was able to carry Shelby to the outside gate without anyone questioning what I was doing or what we were doing at the zoo while it was supposed to be closed.

The delivery gate was closed and padlocked. Of course. There wouldn’t be any deliveries today, not with no one here to accept them, and this would have been seen as a potential security risk. One that I’d very much been looking forward to exploiting. There were no cameras on the delivery gate. Why did they need a damn lock?

“I’m going to put you down for a moment, all right?” I didn’t expect a response from her, but I wanted her to know what I was doing as I carefully lowered her feet to the ground and propped her against the side of the gate. There was a chance she’d leave bloodstains behind, but I couldn’t worry about that, not now. I needed to worry about getting her out of here. That took priority over everything else.

The lock on the gate was a straightforward one, probably purchased from the local hardware store when someone realized that having unfettered access to the zoo could result in drunk teenagers breaking in and getting eaten by alligators. I produced a set of lock picks from the inside pocket of my jacket and set to work.

“I don’t know what your childhood was like, but my parents began teaching me the basics of breaking and entering when I was five,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral, like I was having a conversation with my girlfriend and not babbling at her semiconscious body. “The day I can’t take out a lock like this in thirty seconds is the day I find myself disowned—ha.” The tumbler snapped open. “Today is not that day. Come along, darling, your ride to much-needed medical care awaits.”

With Shelby in my arms, I was able to close the gate, but not relock it. Hopefully, everyone would assume someone else had left the padlock open. If not, that would become one more problem that we would have to deal with later. I had my hands full with the problem I was dealing with now.

The frontage road used for zoo deliveries ran around the back, following the curve of the fence. That was a good thing; the trees were thick between us and the highway, and unless one of the delivery drivers had missed the memo, we would be able to walk here undisturbed. And that was the bad thing: we would have to walk for quite some distance, because my car was safely hidden in the trees on the other side of the zoo.

Shelby wasn’t moving at all. Only the slow rise and fall of her chest told me that she was even alive. If I tried to run to the car, I’d face the risk of dropping her, and even if I didn’t drop her, the bumpiness of the trip wouldn’t do her any favors. It would be a shorter trip through the woods, but that would be even harder on her—and on me. If I was being truly honest about the situation, I wasn’t sure I could carry her that far. Shelby was a slim woman, but she was muscular, and almost as tall as I was.

“Shelby? Can you hear me?”

She mumbled something. Or maybe that was my imagination assigning meaning to a random gasp. It didn’t matter. Either way, I knew what had to be done if I wanted there to be any chance for her.

“I need to leave you here while I go and get the car,” I said, stepping off the road and into the trees. I walked a few yards in, positioning us so that we wouldn’t be visible to anyone who happened to be passing by. “I’m sorry. It’s the only way I’m going to get you to a doctor in time. I’ll be back for you as soon as I can.”

She didn’t make a sound as I lowered her to the ground, propping her up against a nearby tree. The temptation to check her stomach wound was high. I quashed it, forcing myself to turn away from her and head back to the road. I broke into a run as soon as my feet hit the pavement.

I felt incredibly light without Shelby in my arms, and the guilt and fear that nipped at my heels drove me to break all my previous records for distance running as I covered the half mile between my starting point and the car. It was still where I had parked it, thank God; if it had been gone, I would probably have stood frozen in the woods outside the zoo until the police found Shelby’s body and came to collect me.

Throwing myself into the front seat, I jammed my key into the ignition and broke several speed laws pulling out and turning around, heading back to where Shelby was waiting. Just hold on, I thought desperately, thankful for the short distance, and even more thankful for the fact that there was no one else on the road. I’m almost there, so just hold on.

Cars are wonderful things. I was back where I had left Shelby only minutes after I got into the driver’s seat, and less than fifteen minutes total after leaving her behind. I stopped the car in the middle of the road, stumbling out onto the pavement, and ran into the trees. I pushed through the branches to the place where I’d left her—

—and stopped, blinking in confusion at the scene in front of me, or rather, at what wasn’t in front of me.

Shelby was gone.

Twenty-two

“There is a moment, just before the bullet hits, just before the serpent strikes, when you will realize that your life is about to change forever, and not in a good way. That is the moment when you will try to make a bargain with God. That is the moment when you will become an atheist.”

—Jonathan Healy

Outside the wall of Ohio’s West Columbus Zoo, somehow missing a girlfriend

“SHELBY?”

The question hung in the air unanswered, making me feel foolish for asking it. Shelby wasn’t there, and with her injuries, there was no way she’d recovered enough to move on her own while I was getting the car. I still took a few precious seconds to scan the nearby brush, looking for the blood trail she would have left if she’d tried to move on her own. It wasn’t there. Someone had taken her.