Koala Killer First installment - Chapter One

Koala Killer

by

Carol Byron

Mari looked up to see the stars flashing between wind-driven wisps of cloud. It reminded her of fireflies in the backyard when she was a girl. The wind was creating strange noises in the night as she headed back to the zoo's kitchen on the last few minutes of her shift.

"The monkeys are making the most racket," she thought. She stopped to listen and realized that the screaming was more than restlessness caused by weather. Looking down the back row she saw lights in the infirmary and realized the screams were coming from there. She started running. Dropping her pans, she pulled the door open and burst into the room. A man was rolling from side to side on the floor. And the room reverberated with screaming. She looked up to see the gibbon in the canopy of the tree branches that reached to the high ceiling.

"There, there, it's all right," she crooned, partly to the screaming gibbon and partly to the zoo's vet, Stan Reed. She knelt beside Stan as he rolled rhythmically side to side with his hands over his face. Suddenly, he let out a moan and slumped unconscious. Now Mari could see the dart in his eye. She wanted to pass out herself. It was a small tranquilizer dart, but sticking out of his eye like that? Eeyu.

The gibbon calmed down a little after Stan stopped rolling around. After lookin around frantically, Mari realized there was no telephone here in the infirmary. She decided to run the short distance to Security. Joseph, the night guard, would be in the gatehouse with a fresh pot of coffee about now. As she was rushing out, she glanced up toward the gibbon again and was startled to see a koala. It was trembling and looking right back at her.

A Koala?" she said aloud.

Her sense of urgency propelled her toward the gatehouse. Joseph saw her coming and ran out to meet her.
"Stan, dart, eye..." she gasped.
"Calm down Mari," he said, "What happened?"
"Call an ambulance," she told him.

She followed him into the gatehouse and collapsed into the chair. THe blood drained out of her head and she felt woozy. Joseph was placing his call to 9-1-1. He kept asking her questions: Was he conscious? How old is he? She answered as best she could. She felt an urgency to get back to Stan.
"I've got to get back to Stan and those poor animals in there with him, Joseph."
When she got back to the infirmary the gibbon was vocalizing again, but less urgently. He was still high up in the cage but now had his back to her. His chatter sounded more like a rehearsal for how he'd tell this story to his pals. She couldn't see the koala anywhere. Stan was still out cold.
She knelt beside him and put her hands on each side of his face.
"Someone's coming to help you, Stan. Hang in there, my dear."
She pulled a Mexican blanket off a stack in the corner and put it over him. She was afraid to move his head because of the dart. She looked back up into the branches. The gibbon was quiet at last. She thought Manny would have to treat him for shock after this experience. The other tree was definately empty. No koala.
"Now where did he go? Did he get out? Did someone take him out? Where did he come from in the first place? We don't have a koala here."
The ambulance came and took Stan. THe police came and asked questions. By the time a young officer got her address and phone number and told her a detective would contact her with more questions tomorrow, she was getting a headache and could hardly concentrate.
She got to her feet and as she was going out the door, the Zoo Director, Jorge Johnson, came in.
"Mari, you go on home and get some rest. Can you drive okay?"
She nodded.
"I'll coordinate with the police. You come into my office tomorrow morning about 9:00m, will you?"
She nodded again.

This is the opening of my Koala Killer story written in 2001. This is the first couple pages, there's about 35 in its current form. Would like your feedback. Love, Carol

Camera Ready

Here's the digital camera Sharon gave me to use on my trip to Canada in August and September this year.

So I have been practising using it. The following are a few of the photos I've taken so far. A couple of John's paintings on our walls, my great-grandma, and Petey, of course.

The Old Woman of Trinity and Her Twenty-two Cats

Here's another of my poems.

Now, I really like this one for some reason
and don't really think of it as a children's poem.


On highway 33 in the town of Trinity,
Under a stand of cottonwoods,
Lived an old, old woman
In a trailer almost as old as she.
Still lively, though wrinkled and bent,
Living frugally, counting every penny spent.


She ate one meal a day at the Likely Cafe.
Sunday she had bacon on toast,
Monday - apple pie a la mode,
Tuesday - thick bean soup,
Wednesday - fried tomatoes,
Thursday - a tuna sandwich,
Friday was peanut butter,
And Saturday - scrambled eggs.

Her biggist expense was canned milk and kibble for her 22 cats.
There was Felix and Fanny who came as a pair,
Sweet Pea, Sonny, Sam and Sinclair,
And of course, Trixie and Tom who had litters galore,
The first was Edna, Ethel, Earl and Egor,
Most recent were Bella, Beatty, Beau, and Bill
And I almost forgot Walker and Will.
The last four appeared at her door.
She named them Alice, Diana, Raymond and Thor.

She loved each one of the 22 dearly;
Knew each and every personality clearly.
She petted whomever, whenever they wanted.
Purring was often so loud at her trailer
It bothered her nearest grumpy old neighbor.
Though poor in the usual sense
Of having few dollars and cents,
The cat lady of Trinity, Out there on highway 33,
In her trailer under the cottonwood tree,
Says she's as happy as you or me.

I don't think it follows the rules of poetry or writing but I still love it. It flowed out of me when I was being driven by my friend Dioney from Flagstaff up to Redmond OR after I'd fallen on the ice at a motel and she had come to rescue me. We stopped somewhere at a little restaurant called The Likely Cafe and down the street was a mobile home with some cats in the yard. My imagination took it from there.