APRIL 2022 // LITERARY
17
DAY AT THE ZOO MARIELLE NAVARRO
T
he sound of mixed sirens from police cars and ambulances filled the area as people were ushered away by the officers who arrived at the scene. Paramedics were rushing people in the vehicles with the gurneys and stretchers they brought while those who weren’t being treated murmured with gossip and curious assumptions. A little boy held his father’s hand with his own, while his free one clutched onto an almost empty box of popcorn. It looked awkward in his small grasp, as if it weren’t meant to be held by him at that moment. Zoo staff were being questioned by the cops and one of them, probably a feeder, was pale with shock. She looked around frantically as they asked her questions about the animal – the beast – that had gotten out and caused all this mess. Her hands trembled and her mouth kept opening and closing but with no sound coming out. A paramedic approached them and carefully brought her to an ambulance with open doors. They glanced down at her feet as she limped away to be treated; one of her shoes missing. A group of teenagers stood by the pavement a little too near to the barricades, taking pictures of the place and themselves. An old man walked up to them, shouting at them for being insensitive to the situation until someone’s phone went flying; revealing a conversation between a mother and her daughter. One of them started crying while the rest yelled profanities at the man who accused them as he stood there in embarrassment before taking his own phone and calling someone in his own contacts as he turned away. Someone’s anguished scream pierced through the crowd coming from an older woman. She tried to reach for one of the first responders, blood splattered on her body as she attempted to claw her way free from the police holding her back. “You let her die!” She shouted. The paramedic hung his head and people found themselves looking in the direction of the commotion, and if you knew him enough, you’d know that the blood on his shirt is almost as fresh as the uniform on his back. Darkened by the dirt on the concrete and foot prints from the panicked stampede from before, a stuffed toy tiger lay on the ground as the little boy with a box of popcorn found himself looking at its direction from afar. It was broken and unmoving, looking similarly abused like the animal’s body being photographed on its side – currently in the process of being turned into a headline that’ll make tomorrow’s newspaper sell just a little bit better.
