Whisper (Whisper #1)(58)
Crew’s face is dark. “And they wonder why we love it here so much.”
There’s that bitterness again, and again I’m intrigued to know why it’s there. I thought the Exodus recruits were content to spend their days learning how to control their abilities so that they can go on and use them for the greater good. The idea of being a warrior for the government still doesn’t appeal to me, but I can’t deny that the concept has merit. Crew’s attitude, however … I don’t understand what I’m missing.
“Easy, mate,” Enzo says. “It’s not like it’s hard to get authorization to leave. When have you ever been denied a pass?”
“That’s not the point,” Crew replies, and he leaves it at that.
He’s right. But in defense of everything Lengard makes claim to, allowing any kind of Speaker out into the world without some contingencies in place would be risky at best, catastrophic at worst. While I can certainly relate to Crew’s dislike of being locked up, I can’t say I blame the security measures the facility has in place. I do, however, have one question:
“Will I have to be blindfolded this time?”
Keeda raises her eyebrows at Ward and then me. When she quietly mutters, “Kinky,” I shoot her a glare.
“I think we’re past that,” Ward answers me. “You now know what Lengard really is and your place in it. We’ve gone beyond keeping you here against your own volition.”
They have? Since when? I want to ask if they would let me leave should I choose to go, but I’m also aware that I have nowhere else to go. So I keep my mouth shut, practicing the silence that I’m determined to keep for the rest of the night.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
There are only two ways to reach Taronga Zoo from the city: by road or by water. Since the ferries at Circular Quay are within walking distance from Lengard’s exit at Centrepoint Tower, it’s from there that we jump on a boat and catch a ride straight across the harbor. It’s twilight when the vessel delivers us to the tail end of the zoo, and we head straight to the Sky Safari, a cable car that offers a bird’s-eye view over the whole park as it carries us directly to the entrance.
Bundled up against the brisk weather, I rub my hands together as the others decide where we’ll start. Winter begins officially in less than a week, but as I stand waiting to hear their decision, it feels as if it’s already arrived. The children, however, look as if they were born for this moment, and they’re ready to embrace every second of our evening expedition, bitter wind or not.
When a direction is finally agreed upon, Cami turns to the kids and asks, “Are we ready?” At their vigorous nods, she says, “Then let’s go have some fun!”
As we walk along a path, following instructions from the map-wielding Keeda, I’m caught up in all the sensations I’m experiencing. I hear birds jabbering to one another as they settle down in their nests for the evening, the distant sound of screeching monkeys, then a strange, deep groan from far away that raises the hairs on the back of my neck.
“Did you hear that?” Abby asks, her voice filled with wonder.
Enzo scoops her up until she’s piggybacking across his broad shoulders. “Sure did, baby girl. Sounds like the lions are hungry.”
I’m just as much in awe as she is. Years and years ago, when I was about Abby’s age, my parents brought me here to this zoo. That was back when we lived in Sydney, before they packed us up and we moved to the other side of the country. I remember being amazed by the animals and throwing the biggest tantrum when we had to leave. The only way my parents could get me to go was by promising that we’d return someday.
That never happened.
But here I am, fulfilling that promise on my own. And the place is just as wonderful as I remember, if not more so in the fading light. I refuse to let my mind wander down a path best not traveled ever, let alone right now. All that matters is that I’m here. Even if my parents can’t be.
Guided by Keeda, our group heads to the reptile enclosure first, and the kids are delighted when a keeper allows them to stroke the scales on a large diamond python. Once we’re outside again, Abby runs ahead with the two boys, zipping forward and back and calling out, “Hurry up, or we’ll miss all the good aminals!”
I have to hide a snicker of amusement when I hear Ethan’s long-suffering sigh.
“Animals, Abby, not aminals. Animals.”
Abby stomps her foot. “That’s what I said, Ethan! Aminals!”
I actually need to walk a short distance away to keep from laughing. And I’m not the only one, since even Crew sidles along beside me, his normally fierce eyes crinkling with humor.
Over the next two hours we watch elephants spraying water through their trunks, we mimic meerkats posing on their back legs, we’re entertained by playful spider monkeys, we feed giraffes and we cuddle koalas.
The animals come alive as the darkness descends, and they go about their lives as if they’re not held captive behind glass windows and retaining walls.
They’re utterly magnificent.
It’s while we’re watching the chimpanzees bed down for the night that something strange happens. With everyone’s attention on the mischievous creatures, I seem to be the only one who hears the whispered murmur and sees the soft flash. The next moment, something slams into me from the side. I stumble a few steps before I regain my balance, but when I do, I don’t understand what I’m seeing.