I look to see if Ivan’s fingers are moving.
Nothing.
“Hold on, Ivan!” I yell.
Nothing.
Sometimes nothing is the worst sound in the world.
Ruby lets out a little elephant cry, and then I realize maybe that’s the worst sound in the world.
cpr
The wind dies down to a whisper, as if the world is holding its breath along with the rest of us.
“Do you have any vets standing by?” asks Officer Williams as two more ambulances screech to a halt nearby.
“Yes.” Maya nods. “Not sure when they’ll get here, though.”
Officer Williams waves down an ambulance crew member. “You ever give CPR to a gorilla?”
“Primate’s a primate, I guess,” he says, but he doesn’t look too sure. “What’s going on?”
“We’re waiting on equipment, but we’re stretched pretty thin. Lot of structural damage on the north side of town,” says Officer Williams. “They’re going to get a chain on that last beam, try pulling it free with one of the cars.”
“Somebody under there?”
“Gorilla, we think. Not sure what else. Or who else.”
I look at all the cement. All the wood and metal. Nobody could survive that. Not even a silverback gorilla with the strength of eight men.
And yet. Ivan’s fingers moved.
And then they didn’t.
Several minutes pass. The rain slows a bit, along with the wind. The crowd watches as three firefighters attach a long chain to the metal beam next to Ivan, then hook it to a tow bar on the rear of a police car.
“Back up, folks!” calls the megaphone guy. “Farther!”
The chain clanks, the car growls, the wheels squeal.
Grinding. Groaning.
Progress. Just a bit.
The big chunk of metal has definitely moved a whisker or two.
More grinding. Wheels dig holes in the ground. Mud flies like thick brown rain.
A lurch. A snap.
Clanks and rumbles as the big beam jerks free.
The rescue workers move in, digging with their bare hands. Cement and dust and metal and bits and pieces of Gorilla World are everywhere.
But where is Ivan?
no
No movement, nothing.
But after a few more minutes, one thing is clear.
A gorilla-shaped mound has appeared. Covered by dust and dirt and debris and splattered with rain.
It just lies there.
I’ve lost a lot in my life.
My whole family. Stella.
But Ivan? No. It can’t happen.
Not Ivan.
miracle
The mound sits up.
gorilla ghost
Ivan emerges from a cloud of dust like a jumbo-sized ghost.
He blinks several times. Coughs. Shakes. Stretches a little.
He’s holding a banana.
Which he proceeds to eat.
Everyone, and I do mean everyone, cheers.
wolf on the run
I scramble over to Ivan, and he gives me a look that says, You’re the best, Bob.
“I thought you were a goner,” I say, licking some banana goo off his chin.
“Me too.” Ivan seems a little dazed. His eyelashes are white with dust. “What happened, anyway?”
“Tornado.”
“Ruby okay? Kinyani? Julia? George?”
“Haven’t seen Julia or George yet. Kinyani’s over there, carrying on.”
A paramedic holding a box of medical equipment approaches us nervously.
“I’ve got this!” calls a woman I recognize as one of the park veterinarians. The paramedic looks happy to step aside.
The vet gently but firmly pushes me out of the way. “I’ll be back,” I tell Ivan.
I run to Kinyani. “He’s good, totally good.” The look of joy in her eyes makes me want to give her an affectionate nose nudge.
Almost.
From there I join Ruby and Maya. “I was so scared, Bob!” Ruby whispers.
“Me too,” I admit. “Me too. But he’s fine. I promise.”
We watch a pair of otters dart past, chased by a guy with a net. One of the firefighters who’d been clearing debris yells, “We’re clear here. No sign of other victims.”
Sara closes her eyes and I can smell her relieved tears.
While Maya listens to her walkie-talkie, trying to take stock of the damage to the park, Officer Williams’s police radio hisses and crackles with new problems, new flooding, new dire predictions.
“Copy that,” she says into her radio. Even with the chaos and noise, I’m close enough to the radio to catch the tinny sound of frantic barking.
“We’ve got a unit reporting the animal shelter down the street’s flooding,” Officer Williams says. “Also we’ve got trailer park damage on Twelfth Street, an oak down at Nelson Avenue blocking traffic, and a big rig overturned near the fairgrounds. And that’s just for starters.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice something airborne. It’s graceful and bold, like a huge, wingless bird.
The crowd gasps.
It’s Kimu.
He lands on the hood of Officer Williams’s squad car. His eyes are glazed, his coat wet and shimmering.
“We’ve got a 10-91 here,” Officer Williams whispers into her receiver. “Confirmed. Seems there’s a, uh, wolf on top of my vehicle.”
Slowly she reaches for the pistol on her hip. “Please advise.”
shots fired
Several officers raise their guns. The tranquilizer dart guy takes aim too.
“No!” Maya yells. “No guns!”
Kimu blinks, eyes darting right and left, then leaps off the car with such grace and speed it’s like he owns the wind.
Two shots ring out. Silence follows.
“Was he hit?” someone asks.
Maya closes her eyes. “I sure hope not.”
“I sure hope so,” someone else says.
jungle
As I watched that leap, watched Kimu fly, I didn’t know what to think.
Part of me was like, Go for it, dude.
And the other part of me was thinking, It’s a jungle out there.
a situation
Officer Williams climbs onto a picnic table. Someone hands her a megaphone so she can be heard over the din.
“Folks,” she yells, “listen up. We’ve got a handful of animal control workers coming over, but several roads are already flooded out, and the weather guys are saying Gus is gonna take his sweet time. Meantime, park supervisors, call in more help, but only if your workers can get here safely.”
The unmistakable roar of a big cat rolls over us like slow thunder.
“Any more tranq guns?” Officer Williams asks the park director, who’s just arrived.
“Three in reserve,” she answers.
“Nets?”
“We have a dozen.”
“Okay, then.” Officer Williams’s radio crackles. I can hear more shouting, more barking dogs. “Shelter’s flooding,” she says.
“Yeah, that’s happened there before,” the director says. “Usually just a foot or two of water.”