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.

Two New Books Coming by My Favorite Authors Dick Francis and Sue Grafton

BOOK NEWS

Here are two of my favorites with new books coming out. Oh yeah, oh yeah. I go into seclusion to read these two author's new books. I re-read Dick Francis books whenever I am ill or without a good read.

(Kudos to Felix, Dick's son and now co-author).

Even Money releases Aug 25th

U is For Undertow Dec 1st

Under $20 @ Amazon.

My birthday is Nov 4th and Christmas soon after, eh?

Mind Images

Here's an old poem of mine that ties in with my Memory is Odd post. I found it in a 2001 notebook, where it says, "I found this on the bookshelf when I was cleaning. It's from 6-30-99.
Lost and found, forgotten and remembered.

Mind Images

At odd times in the day, an image flashes in my brain:

A crossroad, a juniper tree, a winding distant train,

A grassy hill, a clear blue sky, a child singing in the rain.

Places unrelated, remembered or forgotten, not connected to event,

Peterson's Rock Garden, toll booth on a bridge, dawn in a yellow tent,

A willow tree, a path along the shoreline, a gift that someone sent.

Sweeping clouds of images wisping through my mind,

Trailing scene after scene of every different kind.

A moment from my past, a place in space and time.

A pleasant enough sensation that brings an little smile.

Is there some hidden meaning or just a leaking inner file?

Or is Spirit scanning to remember this incarnation's style?

The note with the poem says that these mind images came more commonly when I was working at Cox Cable in Customer Service, where I was "stressed to the max all the time. Maybe it was a calming measure my brain was giving me."

A Film to Recommend

John and I watched this the first time on Netflix Instant Play because Nicolas Cage is in it. Then we watched it a second time because the story was engrossing and we recognized Willcox AZ as the town of Red Rock.

It reminded us of the Coen's "Blood Simple" where events just seem to get worse and worse for the protagonist. Nicolas plays Michael Williams who's injured his leg and is looking for work on a drilling crew in Wyoming about a thousand miles from nowhere, as the song goes. The opening scene of Nicolas getting cleaned up by the side of the road is delightfully sexy without showing anything you wouldn't let your twelve year old daughter see.

So, he doesn't get the job, doesn't blame his friend who told him to come, doesn't take a loan from him either. His gas tank's empty and he's got $5 left. At the next gas station he resists taking cash that was laying open. He really is a nice guy trying to do the right thing.

He gets to Red Rock (Willcox) dead broke and out of gas. The man behind the bar asks him, "Where have you been?" and says, "You are here for the job aren't you?" Michael's whole world is about getting a job, so he says, "Yes."

"So you're Lyle from Dallas?"

"Yes." Oh, oh. Things start to get pretty bad from here on in, because Michael thinks the man is offering him a bartender job, but it turns out he's hiring a hit on his wife.

Hope I haven't revealed too much. This description is all in the first few minutes and the complications take some strange twists and turns. Perhaps a little too plot inclusively convenient but locks you in. This is not a movie you can get up and get a snack or leave the room at all. Pause it. Stop it. Don't miss the details or you might have to watch it a second time like we did.

Memory is Odd

Memory is odd, especially for odd memories. Sometimes I can tell what triggers one and sometimes I can't.

For example, yesterday, I was reading Robert B. Parker's latest small book, Chasing the Bear, his description of a poor neighborhood, when suddenly I was remembering a house that had pigs in the front yard. I walked past these pigs two or three times a week, six years ago while walking my dog Owen. I was living with my mom in Costa Mesa, California at the time. The house and pig yard were in a neighborhood of otherwise expensive homes with landscaped yards. The pigs, I think, started life as small Vietnamese pot bellies but had been fed a sufficient diet to grow quite large. I always spoke to them, "Hello pigs, how are you today?" that kind of thing. They grunted back. I could feel their intelligence. I did wonder, still do, what the neighbors thought of them. Mom's house was about ten blocks away. I might have liked living close to them, but mom probably wouldn't have. I certainly can imagine the objections their neighbors might have had.

An odd memory to pop up, especially since Parker's description didn't include any pigs. Oh, and by the way, Parker's book - excellent piece of writing. It's a short story about his character, Spencer's boyhood; he was raised by his father and uncles, an all male household. His dialogue? Well, that's what he does best. His punctuation, for those of who care about such things, is perfect. And his sentences always flow.

Right outside my bedroom window

Today I watch as the house finches eat our peaches that have just ripened. Last week Sharon and I spotted a hooded oriole, female and male, gathering palm frond strings from our Mexican fan palm.

Before the monsoon when it was so dry, the javelina came into the yard and ate our spineless prickly pear and during that same dry spell, a mother and her twin fawns, came to eat the shiny leaves of our pear tree.

Isn't that wonderful? A benefit of living at the edge of unpeopled hills and mountains all around. Down here in the Mule Mountains near the Mexico border.



Last night at twilight, pink came into the various shades of grey clouds, making me think of the pink and charcoal colors that were so popular with the boys to wear to dances when I was a senior in High School (late 50s). The pink faded quickly and thunder started rumbling off to the south and lightning flashed all around. Then we had a quick downpour that brought the temperatures down to good sleeping level. The thunder rolled on into the dark of night.

Arlene says, "Come on. Bring yourself & Petey."

I talked to Arlene at their cottage today. She said she had just read my letter. They'd been to town and picked up the mail. She was surprised when I told her I was coming to see them up there. She asked if I was kidding. No not kidding. Me and Petey are coming up in the PT. I wanted to clear the dates with her and she said that August 25 on would be good. There were no other visitors for those dates. She and John will be up at the cottage until September 10th so come and stay as long as you want. I said, "I shall."
I'm really excited now.

This is the destination. You understand me now?

And these are the people - my cousin Arlene and her hubby John. Good folk!

This is the cottage from the outside.

And this is the lake view and the pontoon boat we slide along in, looking at loons.

Decision Made and Do I Feel Better

I finally decided that I am driving to Ontario, Canada this year. I am taking Petey with me. Estimated departure date is August 20th - a new moon.
The photo is from my trip last year, the first day out, actually. I took the shot on US route 191 past the Morenci mining 'stuff', on the way up to Arizona's White Mountains. That trip totalled just over 3,000 miles, this one should double that.

Basically, I'll be heading north and east into New Mexico through Las Cruces, Alamogordo, and Roswell (never been there - always a route draw for me). On into the panhandle of Texas where due to Roswell will take me through Hereford (TX), then into Oook-la-homa, where starting at El Reno I plan to take good ole route 66 that skips along beside I-44. Then through Missouri, Joplin to St. Louis on I-44 to I-270. Now on through Illinois to Terre Haute, Indiana where I plan to do the scenic US40 that parallels I-70 to Indianapolis where I pick up I-69 north to Michigan. And I-69 it is, on into Ontario at the Port Huron/Sarnia crossing. (have never done that either). Once I'm into Canada I wander around trying to miss the big cities, especially Toronto, to Beaverton on Lake Simcoe, then final leg up to Lake Memesagamesing and my cousin Arlene's Hideaway cottage. Aaa. Swimming, fishing, berry-picking.
Along the way I plan to fill a basket with something from each state that's a locally grown or made food product for my cousin's hostess gift.
Return Trip? All I know is it has to be done. Who wants a postcard?

Human Interest Stories

The local paper said that someone had reported "a naked man ironing on his front porch". Just how skewed can a story get when it goes through the police records to the local newspaper? My friend, I'll call him Joe, told me that at first he didn't even recognize himself, but suddenly he remembered the moment. It's summer here in the Chiricuahua Desert and it gets hot. Joe was in his Bermuda shorts, out on his porch, spreading a beach towel over the railing. From someone's prespective, possibly through binoculars, it might have looked as if he had no clothes on and the action of smoothing the towel out on the railing might have looked as if he were ironing. My question is: Who would call the police about this in any case?

This is not the first time I've know the people behind the Human Interest story who could barely recognize themselves, or the story that was really happening. My pregnant friend in the Telephone Company in Santa Ana, California back in 1961 had a fast first delivery. She was unable to get out of their car because labor was so advanced, so the hospital staff came out to her and got her inside to safely have her baby. BUT, the newspaper story said she'd had the baby in the parking lot, and the reason she'd had it there was that she was reading an Alfred Hitchcock story and couldn't put it down.

Don't Step On Your Chihuahua

The Newsflash is that Petey-pup had to go to the vet's office yesterday.

He was tranquilized and had a toe nail removed. It was my fault. I was on the front steps of the house, saying goodbye to my neighbors, Thomas and Bernadette, I stepped back onto his foot.

Yes, he screamed. I didn't believe that he was really hurt, since he tends to complain even when he thinks he might be hurt; but there was blood.

I didn't want to take him to the local veterinarian office because they have not shown me, or my dog, or my cat, politeness, let alone compassion. Getting his shots there is okay but not checking an injury. Well, I set off for Sierra Vista thinking we'd go to the new "Animal Care" building on Hwy 90. We stopped there all right but it turns out that that is the new City Animal Shelter. So on we went to the Apache Veterinarian Hospital on Hwy 92.

They took us right in. They were compassionate. They fixed him up in just over an hour. I had time to get some lunch down at the Country House while I waited. The whole thing happened just as I was getting ready to go out to the Copper Queen Hospital cafeteria. Missed that. But we're glad Petey's fixed up, good as new except for the loss of one toe nail on his front left side. And it only cost $140.