The Zoo - Chapter 1

Mortimer awoke with his back pressed up against a cold, hard surface interspersed with thin, itchy strains of straw. He sat up, his head throbbing in pain. Mortimer was having trouble remembering how he had gotten there. Although as his vision cleared, he realized he didn’t know where ‘here’ was.

He stood up, scratching under his arm as he glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings. The room he found himself in had three solid concrete walls and a fourth transparent glass wall. The floor was rocky and tilted, with alternating patches of concrete interspersed with large, rocky formations. The concrete had a large divot from which a steady stream of water flowed into a basin of water that sat at the bottom of the slanted room, closest to the glass wall. The water seemed to drain at a steady pace into a hole at the bottom of said pool.

“He-” Mortimer began and then grunted, feeling at his parched throat.

He edged his way down the rocks and squatted next to the pool. He scooped his hand into the water, feeling icy liquid run between his fingers. Cupping his hand, he brought several handfuls of clear liquid to his mouth. As he hoped, it was water, but it didn’t taste right. There was a slight metallic taste that his palate was unaccustomed.

He looked up, squinting at a pair of lights that sat three meters above his head, filling the room with a far brighter than normal luminosity. As tears formed in his eyes, he looked away from the light, bright spots filling his vision. He shook his head, trying to collect his thoughts.

Mortimer tried to recall how he had ended up in this circumstance. He remembered leaving his home sometime after the sunset. At the time, he wanted the company of a woman for the night and decided to hit up the nearby drinking hole with his friends. He had had no luck with the women, but they had messed around until late in the night. When one of his friends had become ill, the others left to take him home. Mortimer returned home alone.

Mortimer’s train of thought froze, trying to comprehend what happened next. There was a light. It was a light far brighter than the one over his head. He covered his eyes. There was a sting. He felt tired. Then, he woke up here.

“Hey!” Mortimer stood up.

He moved from his spot to the front glass, banging his palm on the glass. Rather than making a typical high pitch sound, it responded with a loud thud. There was little light on the other side of the glass, making it difficult for Mortimer to see what was there. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for any sign of life.

He banged his hand several more times on the glass, “Hey! Is anyone there? Let me out of here!”

There didn’t seem to be enough air in here. He took in several breaths, but it didn’t feel like enough air. It was hot and stuffy and the lights were burning him. He couldn’t breathe, he would suffocate. His chest hurt and he grasped at it, trying to bring in the breaths. His eyes teared up. He needed to… he needed to…

The words of a mentor came slamming home. He needed to calm down. He willed his eyes closed, trying to relax his body. Slowly, he took deep breaths, ignoring the body screaming at him to panic. It worked, and when he opened his eyes he could see clearly once again.

This time he pressed his face up against the glass, using his hands to block out the light from the room he was in. It worked, and after a few seconds, his eyes adjusted to the new lighting, letting him see what was beyond. What he found on the other side of the glass was a hallway. There was nothing special about this hallway. It looked more comfortable than the area he was in. Besides the low lighting, the floor looked to be soft and carpeted. The walls were painted white although it was difficult to tell with this lighting. Regrettably, there were no people in this hallway. Mortimer had hoped someone could help him. When Mortimer’s eyes scanned the far wall, he realized there was another glass wall leading to another room, much like his own, on the opposite side of the hallway.

As it was lit much like his own, he found he could peer inside. At first, he saw nothing, but a room overfilled with greenery, but after a few moments, he detected movement. A strange creature Mortimer had never seen before uncurled itself and slithered up and down the cage before balling itself up into a tight, condensed form. Mortimer decided that he was glad he was in this cage, and not in that one.

Wait, is this a cage? It had to be, didn’t it? He couldn’t see any way out of the room. Was that not the definition of a cage? He glanced around the room one more time. On the wall opposite his glass one, he could see the faintest outline of an edge that seemed to outline a door. He moved there, abandoning his position at the window. As soon as he made it to the door, he worked his fingers along the edge. The door fought Mortimer’s grip, but after a struggle, he got his fingers into the crack.

He pulled, and the door opened a centimeter before stopping solid with a loud clanking sound. Mortimer repeated the action again to the same effect. He tried to apply more pressure, but the door would not move any more than that centimeter. His fingers felt sore, the precarious grip being difficult to maintain. However, that didn’t stop him from trying again and again.

The door slipped shut, and his fingers pinched. He cried out, then slammed his fist against the door and cursed. His voice seemed to echo from beyond the door. He banged against the door, yelling for someone to release him. This time the sound on the other end was not his own. The noise that returned almost sounded like a voice. However, that voice sounded harsh and guttural, unlike anything Mortimer had ever heard before. Mortimer took several steps back. Remembering the creature in the other cage, perhaps going through the door was not the best decision for right now.

Mortimer turned from the door, returning to the pool to take several more mouthfuls of the metallic water. Mortimer wasn’t thirsty though. He was hungry. Regrettably, Mortimer found no food in sight.

Mortimer paced back and forth. What else was he going to do? Would he end up starving to death? A dangerous monster sat in the other room across from the glass wall, and a dangerous noise came from beyond the cell’s only door. Mortimer did not frighten easy, but he admitted to himself that he felt frightened right now.

The door clicked, and for a moment Mortimer panicked. What if whatever had made that voice before was coming for him? What if he was not safe? He wanted to cower behind something but knew there was nothing in this barren room that would hide him.

A slot opened at the base of the door. He hadn’t noticed that slot before. A single tray slid through the slot, skidding to a stop a foot from the door. The slot closed as suddenly as it had opened. Mortimer stared at the tray and the closed slot for a moment, his mind contemplating what he had just seen.

Mortimer walked over to the tray, checking to see what was on it. He wasn’t sure if he could trust the food. Maybe it was poisoned. Maybe it was drugged. They might have drugged him to get him here. Maybe that is why he still had a throbbing headache.

The tray held some green things, some red things, and brown mush. He recognized none of it, but he realized that it was most likely food. He picked up one of the green things, smelling it and feeling it between his fingers. It was light and crumbly but had no smell. He nibbled a corner. It was sour and tasteless. He made a face and put the food back down, walking away.

He continued to wait in the bright-lit room, starring at the food as his stomach continued to grumble. Finally, he had enough. He walked back, this time grabbing a red thing. It was larger than the green thing and felt spongey. He bit into it, and it tasted sweet and tart. He decided that he liked the red thing and ate the rest of it. Mortimer would not have to go hungry today.

After finishing the food. Mortimer waited once again. He felt at his head and his stomach. He was looking for numbness, grogginess, or dizziness that might otherwise show that there was something wrong with the food. After Mortimer realized he was fine, he concluded he was likely not drugged.

He went back to the tray and found a bowl of brown stuff on the side of the plate. The tray held no utensils to use. After several failed attempts to pour the stuff into his mouth, it was far too thick for that, he took two fingers and scooped it out. It tasted bland, but otherwise still tasted better than the green stuff. He continued to use his fingers to eat the rest of it, still not full from the red stuff he had eaten prior. Afterward, he washed his hands in the stream.

Mortimer sat down, his back up against a wall. The floor and the wall were both hard. Those bright lights seemed to be on constantly and this provided him no comfort at all. However, with nothing to do and no one to talk to, the only choice was to wait for the time being. Perhaps this was all a joke? Perhaps the door would open any second and his friends would all greet him, laughing that he had been so foolish. He clung to that thought, but as minutes turned to hours, those thoughts took an edge.

He cursed his friends, every single one of them, for playing this mean trick on him. Then he pleaded with them, hoping that this was merely a joke. Finally, he begged, praying he would be let free, that his life could return to normal. The night wore on as he fought himself. This exhausted him. Between the stress of this strange environment and the extreme boredom, Mortimer’s eyes fluttered closed.

When Mortimer’s eyes opened again, it was with a sudden snap. At first, he had a sense of vertigo. Where was he? What was he doing? The room spun around and around. His head was on the concrete floor, his back stiff from the uncomfortable bed he had made for himself. After a few seconds, the reality came back to him. He was in that weird cell, the one his friends must have thrown him in to tease him.

Maybe it wasn’t his friends that caused this. Maybe it was psychosis. He had seen others lose their wits as they got older. Maybe all of his friends were around him. Maybe he was not seeing what was really there. He was still far too young, only in his 20s, to be suffering from any degree of dementia. However, there were those that went crazy all the time. Was Mortimer just crazy?

His stomach rumbled, and he realized he needed to use the restroom. He stood up, ready to find the toilet, and then froze. After glancing to each side of the cage, back and forth again, Mortimer came to the dreadful conclusion that there was no rest area in sight.

He flopped back down on the floor in stunned silence. What was he going to do? He couldn’t go in a corner. Could he? He looked at the corner farthest from himself and grimaced.  No, whoever had put him there would not get the satisfaction of degrading him so. He held it. He laid back down, trying to will himself back to sleep.

It didn’t work. He was still very much awake. The urge to defecate and urinate grew inside him until he could not wait any longer. He looked back at the corner one more time. Would it be so bad if he went?

He stood up slowly, walking over to the window and glancing through it one more time. He couldn’t see the thing that had been in the cage across from him. It had terrified him and not being able to see it gave him a sudden shock of anxiety until he controlled his breathing once again and remind himself that it was in another cage. If it was even half as airtight as this cage, he should be safe from it.

He still saw no one in the hallway outside the cell. Eventually, he nodded to himself, he was alone with no one to watch him. Mortimer picked the corner in the far back left. The ground slanted away from the water supply and where he slept, so it seemed like the safest place to be. He also knew he would not pick an area next to the glass for the obvious reasons.

He lowered down, squatting uncomfortably as he defecated. It was rather difficult doing it here. Besides the feeling of exposure from all sides, he couldn’t find a comfortable way to squat. When he was finished, he came to another dreadful realization. He looked around, ready to grab something to wipe before realizing there was nothing to use. Mortimer hadn’t thought of that.

He cringed, panicking to himself for just a moment. He needed to wipe. It didn’t matter on what, he would use a leaf if he had to use one. Unfortunately, this concrete cage was devoid of anything he could use. After a few moments of discomfort and a certain degree of panic, his eyes fell on the water supply and cringed.

So much for keeping it clean. If he cleaned himself in the pool and used the water above that point for drinking, he should be okay. He nodded to himself, moving over to the pool and doing just that. When he was done his washing, he went back to the spot he had secured as his sleeping area. He avoided looking at the area where he had defecated. Without anything to dry himself, Mortimer still felt dirty.

Tears ran down his cheeks. How quickly Mortimer had been reduced to this. He was just a miserable animal now, within a single day of being denied the creature comforts he had been used to. Those tears changed into sobs as he fell into a cycle of self-pity.

What right did anybody have to cage him up like this? Why was he being punished and for what reason? Perhaps Mortimer had done this to himself. Perhaps he deserved what was happening to him. Mortimer reminded himself of every wrong deed he had ever performed. His whole body shook as he continued to weep. Slowly, he fell asleep once again with his last thoughts a confusing mass of doubt and regret.