The Midnight Zoo by Sonya Hartnett Page B

he meant to return — Alice told us he was staying here, to take care of the zoo. But the moon has bloomed and died and bloomed again, and he hasn’t returned in all that time: we haven’t seen him since.”
    No one said anything. In its dark and shielded corner, the eagle shook its wings. Eventually Andrej said, “But the village is destroyed.”
    “That is so.”
    “Why? If the Leader has the lions, why is the village destroyed?”
    The wolf blinked languidly, settling down on thin haunches. “A lion and three cubs couldn’t console the Leader any more than a boar could, that’s why. The Mayor was a fool to imagine they would. A whole pride of lions couldn’t have done so. Only revenge could do that thing. Revenge, and the teaching of a lesson to any other village that was thinking about resisting the invasion. The first bomb fell the morning after the lions went away. Another and another bomb, and more after that, until the village was in pieces, and all the people gone. Since that time, the village has been silent. I don’t think even a mouse lives there now. Nothing remains but dust and stone and this story. Even so, the invaders drop more bombs sometimes, to make sure the rubble is repentant too.”
    The brothers plucked the ashy tips of the grass while they thought over all they’d heard: over the disastrous attack on the cargo train and the loss of the zoo’s daughter, Alice; over the disappearance of the lions and the owner of the zoo; over the unforgiving bombings that had destroyed the village and cast out its blameless people. They thought of the weeks that the animals had spent trapped in their cages, surviving on rain and dew and whatever moths and petals and scraps of weed happened to blow in through the bars. “Everyone is gone.” Tomas examined the facts, a frown printing creases on his brow. “Everything is ended, and everyone is gone, except for the animals in the zoo. You’re still here, because you can’t leave. And nobody stayed behind to care about you.”
    “That is so,” the wolf replied.

Andrej’s heart felt unbearably heavy
. He looked at his small grimy brother, whose hair fell in his face and who needed a bath and a new set of clothes; he looked at the lioness, whose massive chiseled head rested leadenly on her paws. Wilma, on the bench, was making no noise, and even the wolf seemed finally quietened. “We have some food,” Andrej heard himself say. “There won’t be much to go around, but it’s better than nothing.”
    Tomas caught his breath, delighted. The animals stood to watch as he upended Andrej’s pack across the lawn. Into the grass tumbled their treasures — a torn comic, a set of playing cards, a blue cap, a brass bullet, a pair of aviator goggles with a stretched and broken head strap. Out fell candles and cutlery and a can opener, matches, a flashlight, and the corkscrew Andrej had found in the village. Out clattered plates and bowls and dented mugs made of tin. Out came their money, secreted like a sardine; out came all the tradable goods Andrej had taken from the caravans — carving tools and razor blades, jewelry in silver and leather — which always made Tomas’s chest hurt to see. Out bounced a rock of cheese and a bruised apple, and two dinner rolls speckled with mold. Out dropped a chunk of liverwurst and an almost-complete packet of biscuits. Out rolled Wilma’s priceless pot of lemon butter, and a matching but full pot of jam. Tomas stood all these aside, shook the bag and peered inside it, and plunged in an investigating arm. From the bottom of the pack he drew the prize of their scavengings, a fragrant lump wrapped in a tea towel: for an instant he hesitated, and glanced at Andrej, who, though he knew how it would feel the next day when there was nothing to eat, nodded and said, “That too.” So Tomas set the lump on the ground and unwrapped the tea towel to reveal a chewed ham bone, the smell of which made the wolf groan. The assembled