June

“Unbelievable! She hates me,” Thomas snaps, storming into the breakroom covered in hay and vegetable scraps. “Out of every animal, an elephant has to hate me. You know they have really good memories, right?”

I don’t know why you bother with her. You know I’m her favourite, I sign to him. I can’t help but smile as he pulls bits of cabbage out of his mop of hair. Don’t worry, I’ll drop by on my way out.

I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head to Elephant Odyssey. Passing the condors, I notice their irate flapping and manic screeching. They’ve never been this agitated before. As I approach the care centre, I hear her trumpeting frantically. Dropping my bag by the door, I go in to see June. She’s butted up in the corner but waves her trunk at me. My sweet June.

I wonder what’s bugging her. My hand runs under her chin, caressing her rough, four-year-old wrinkles. I can feel that she’s scared. She hesitates a moment, then wraps her trunk around my waist and pulls me close. Part of me wants to stay here, hugging her forever.

The elephants, specifically June, understand me better than any other animal, or person for that matter. I don’t need a voice to speak to them, and they don’t need words to speak with me. I pat her trunk three times and she reluctantly lets go. She’s much calmer now. After feeding her a few apples from my pockets, I give her head a goodbye head rub. She returns my final wave from the door. I hate it when she gets anxious like this.

It’s 5:27p.m. I usually wait with Thomas until he gets his bus or Samson comes to pick me up in the car park. Even at twenty-eight years old, he still insists on picking me up from work.

There’s no sign of Thomas at the bus stop. How odd. A cold January wind bites at my neck, shivering down my spine. I whiz around at the sound of a horn, seeing Samson pull up in his retro Tesla.

“Can’t you hear me beeping?” he asks as I open the rear door, throwing my bag in the back seat.

How many times do I have to tell you? I’m mute, not deaf. A cheeky grin falls from my face as I meet his grim expression.

“Edwin, I’m being serious.”

What’s going on? I get into the front seat and click my seatbelt in place. He never uses my full name.

“Well,” he hesitates, pulling out of the car park, “mom’s gone.”

I give him a confused expression and shake my hands.

“I visited her on my way here. She just… disappeared. Here one second and gone the next. Right in front of me,” he continues, eyes welling with tears. Shakily setting the auto-driver to home, he slowly turns to me. “I didn’t know what to think at fir—”

The screeching of tires and metal colliding with metal rips through the air. Behind us, a car flips and crashes onto another, blocking the middle lane of the road. My head swings around to see but Samson stares through me.

Sam, what’s going on?

“People are vanishing.”

~

It’s been seventeen days since people started disappearing. Most of San Diego is in ruins since the rioting began. Those remaining are demanding answers from the Government. Why is this happening, and why now?

I, like many others, think it’s an act of God; that he’s slowly bringing the world back to Eden in a less “revelation-y” sort of way. Others think it’s all a Government conspiracy, like the bird cameras, or Area 51. One thing’s for sure, people are afraid of who will vanish next.

I’m living with Samson now. He spends most of his day grieving his wife, Marie, who disappeared on day twelve. I always worry about him when I leave for work. Most of the roads are blocked by abandoned cars so the new commute from Rolando back into the city is a bit of a hassle. It usually takes me just over half an hour on my bike, but I can’t leave everyone behind.

I arrive with the worst in mind, seeing raiders pillaging the gift shop and café. These days nothing surprises me; although my close encounter with a small waddle of African penguins brings a smile to my face.

Looks like I’ve got some little helpers today. Their confused heads tilt at my signing. I hope I don’t scare them off. They shadow me as I inspect the damage around the zoo but slip away through a hole in the reindeer enclosure. The other zookeepers are gone, either meeting their fate or fleeing the city. Abbie opened her enclosures before she left for her sister’s ranch in the north, so the reptile house is off limits. Jeremy was in the middle of feeding the grizzlies when he vanished, and only God knows how many enclosures they’ve broken in to.

The elephants don’t complain much about their recent lack of care but I’m doing my best. June is still in the care centre, but her anxiety has gotten worse. I check her vitals as often as I can, but I don’t know how long I can keep this up.

~

A cold morning greets me. Stretching and climbing out of bed, I meander off to the bathroom, instinctively flicking the light switch to no avail. We haven’t had power in three days. I clean myself as best anyone can in times like these, and head downstairs, only to find Samson holding his face in his palms. Today has been thirty-five days since mum vanished. My knuckles gently knock on the wall and Samson slowly drags his head out of his hands.

“Morning,” he laments. “How’d you sleep?”

Not bad. I’m guessing you haven’t slept? The rings around his eyes have darkened, his face now gaunt and haggard.

“Yeah… I got… some sleep. I heard a car a few streets away. Raiders most likely. We should have enough gas for… if we need to make a getaway.” Nearly everyone is out of gas. I almost envy crazy uncle Vinnie and his doomsday bunker. I wonder if he’s vanished or not.

Any updates from the broadcast? Pulling out the last few slices of bread without mould, my stomach gurgles with hunger. You never know the value of fresh bread until it’s gone.

“Last night, they said two thirds of the world have vanished. The radio has been on the fritz all morning”. I finish preparing my breakfast and sit across from him. “Listen… I think we should move further from the city.”

How far? I think I might be able to manage a ride from San Carlos.

“About that… I don’t think you should go to the zoo anymore.” I almost choke on my tuna sandwich. The very notion of leaving June and the others behind sickens me.

What? Why? What’s wrong with me taking care of them? No one else can.

“We need to take care of ourselves Eddy. Looters could have killed us last week if they hadn’t vanished first. Next time we might be that luc—”

No! I will not leave them! I frantically sign, standing up and glaring at him.

“I’ve made up my mind. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.” Samson gets up to leave in a huff, but I slam my hands on the table, seizing his attention.

You don’t understand, they need me!

“I need you!” he bellows. A moment passes between us. He slumps back onto his chair, rubbing his face. I’ve always felt like a burden to him. I never thought he’d need me. “Look, neither of us knows what’s going to happen. I can’t…” he pauses, eyes welling, “…I can’t lose you too.”

His face returns to his hands, now on the verge of tears. It’s gut-wrenching to see your big brother, your hero, break down in front of you. I walk over to his side and pat my hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me with fearful eyes.

Okay… we’ll leave tomorrow. He lets out a large sigh of relief and hugs me tightly. But I’m saying goodbye to them first.

~

Avoiding the heavy debris covering the roads, we weave around abandoned cars with only a few minor scrapes and dents. Not that the condition of the car mattered anymore, so long as it worked.

“Did you make sure to pack the extra blankets?” Samson asks, passing what used to be Roosevelt Middle School. But I was in another world. Life used to be so much simpler. “Eddy? Did you pack the extra blankets?”

I slowly nod, dragging myself back to reality. We pull into the entrance from Park Boulevard, narrowly missing a collision with a loose rhino. Getting out of the car, Samson checks and holsters his 629 as a precaution. It pains me to think that this is the last time I’ll be walking through these gates.

Doing my final round of the Zoo almost reduces me to tears, seeing the few species left. I release as many of them as I can, knowing that they’ll have a better chance out there than in here, and narrowly miss a bite from a mountain viper. I’m sure one less blood-thirsty reptile won’t hurt anyone, so I leave him in his enclosure.

Finally reaching the dilapidated Elephant Odyssey, my heart twinges. With all our strength, we pry open both sets of doors, now damaged from the raiders and rioters. Swazi, the matriarch of the herd, hesitates to leave but knows it’s for the best. Leading the herd through the steel doors, they offer us a pleasant symphony of trumpets from the road. After a few paces, she signals them to stop and turn.

“What are they doing?” Samson asks, flailing his arms in the air in an attempt to shoo them off. I know why they’re waiting. It’s June.

The zoo is abandoned. No children caught in the wonder of the wild, no staff tending stalls or stores, no animals gawking back at foreign faces behind the glass and fences. Just me, Samson, and my June.

We creak open the door to the care centre, the wind whirling small bits of hay and dirt along the ground. June was already up on her feet, slowly backing herself into the corner.

Hey June. Don’t worry, it’s just me. I tell her, signalling Samson to stay behind me. Come on June. You need to go with your family. As I sign “go”, she plants herself on the ground in an act of defiance.

“What’s she doing?” Samson asks, peering over my shoulder at the great grey giant.

We need to give her a bit of a push, I reply. Together, we get behind her and try to force her out of the doors. Again and again, we try to move her, but she just won’t budge. If we leave her here, she won’t survive. I start kicking and hitting her in frustration, my puny limbs bouncing off her hard, wrinkly exterior. My eyes spill-over with tears, blurring my vision as I slump down against her leg.

“I’ll… give you two a moment,” Samson offers, cautiously side-stepping towards the door. Wiping the salty drops from my cheeks, I shuffle around to meet her face, kneeling in front of her left eye so she can see me properly.

I… I couldn’t live with myself if I let something happen to you. You need them. June follows my finger as I point to the open door. My hands start to shake. A-and they need you. I-If you stay, no one will be here to take care of you, o-or wash you, or feed you, or… or tell you stories about their day… or play with you in the hay… or protect you. Her trunk slips behind my waist, pulling me close as I erupt into soundless sobbing. We hug each other for an eternity until a faint trumpet tugs us back to reality. Taking a step back and looking up, I see a wet patch below her cinnamon-brown eye.

I love you June.

Rising to her feet, she pads towards the door and we both walk out into the open world. As Samson and I grab our things, June joins the herd who happily trumpet at the sight of their loved one. As they tread off, I know she will be safe. Turning around at the bend in the road, she raises her trunk and toots a final goodbye. We both return her wave, knowing we may never see her or the herd again.

“You did the right thing Edwin. I’m proud of you,” Samson says, placing his arm around my shoulder. With that, we venture off into the unknown. Neither of us knows when we’ll vanish. But for now, all we need to worry about is surviving day thirty-seven.