The Human Zoo

CHAPTER THREE PRIYA

CHAPTER THREE

PRIYA

Present DayThe sun warms my skin. Goosebumps crawl up and down my legs, and my hands cushion my head with the grass beneath me. The sound of Benjy’s fingers scratching dirt reaches my ears.

“What’cha drawing?” I ask, sweetly tilting my head his way. When he looks back at me, he raises one eyebrow and gives me a crooked smirk. His brown eyes are bright and alive.

“Oh, you know . . . drawing this and that, and making sure to add them in. The picture would be incomplete without prying eyes,” he says, gesturing to the people above us.

My gaze follows his finger up to the crowd above us; their greedy hands reaching over the onyx fence, the structure separating them from a fifteen-foot drop down to our home.

“In polite society, it’s rude to leave anyone out,” I spit as shocks of annoyance surge through me.

The people above us continue to look down, giggling and snickering. Huffing, I stand up and place my hands on my hips hoping they reach over the barrier a little farther, enough to accidentally fall into our home.

Pen is more accurate of a word. This place is simple. There’s an inside with three separate rooms; an outside which is all dirt minus some patchy grass, and a tunnel that connects the two. There are a few trees, the biggest one is in the valley, and the lowest part of the enclosure. We also have what the caretakers call luxury, water troughs—strategically placed by the door of life. The threshold where caretakers come and go with food. From above, I’m sure it appears vast. But down here, it feels like we live in a bowl, especially with that stupid black fence that looms overhead, skirting the perimeter

Sighing, I look up at the big blue sky. It’s open and free, and for a moment I feel as if I am too. But then I see the jagged rock walls around me caving in, and I remember that I am trapped, caged in this place. One day though, I’ll get out. I’ll fly away like a bird with no one to hold me back.

A small child smiling at me catches my attention. His rosy cheeks noticeable even from down here. It’s difficult not to laugh as his little hand reaches up. I think he’s going to wave at me and for a moment, I regret my harshness toward these people. That is until something falls over the fence. The grayish object drops fast and lands in front of me.

Grabbing it, I turn the jagged object in my hand.

“Ben, that little bastard just threw a rock at me. He’s like three!” I say.

“Only three and he aims well already? Damn, impressive,” Ben retorts.

There’s no time to respond to Ben as a rainfall of rocks start to pelt me from above. Crouching down, I cover my head, knowing running will only make it worse. My body feels as if it’s beginning to bruise under the barrage of rocks as they continue to pelt me. Suddenly there’s a loud snapping noise as a massive rock hits my left wrist and adds a sharper pain up my arm.

“s**t,” I seethe, tucking my arm under my stomach.

I stand up among the now still stones and hear the chipper tones of laughter. My blood boils, and I start throwing the rocks back, my lousy arm folded over my stomach. The viewers above squeal giddily and scatter in amusement. Not a single stone makes it up over the fence.

“What’s wrong with you!” I yell, throwing my arms up in frustration. A hand latches onto my shoulder and jars me.

“Priya stop. You know there’s nothing we can do except try to be better than them,” Benjy says.

“I know, I know. But shouldn’t you ask me if I’m okay first before giving me a moral lesson?”

He crosses his arms and rubs his chin.

My eyes roll as I lean my back against his chest while chuckling. The throbbing in my wrist distracts my attention. It’s already starting to swell.

“What do you think is bigger, your ego or my wrist?” I asked holding it up for comparison.

“Tough call. But, I’m gonna go with your wrist.”

“Of course. What would I do without a friend like you, Ben?” My eyelashes bat at him.

“You would probably keep throwing rocks at people. I mean, if I had to guess. That’s just speculation though.”

“Shut up!” I say, swatting him on the chest. “Let’s get out of here.” I start walking, then stop as two men dressed in black attire charge toward me.

“Priya, I know what you’re thinking. As your best friend, wait as your only friend—”

“Thanks for rubbing that in, Ben,” I say.

“As I was saying, as your only friend, I highly recommend not doing what you’re about to do. Besides, it’s not like you can go anywhere without it ending badly. Let it be easy this time.”

My head shakes. “It fills me with joy to make them work. If they are going to keep me trapped in this cage, I might as well have fun with it. Who doesn’t like to have fun, Benjy?” He doesn’t respond. “That’s what I thought.”

They approach me as they always do, with an air of authority and boredom. The Guardian’s guns are aligned menacingly in their belts and the sun shines off their black visors. I stand still, waiting for them to get closer. When they are about three feet away, I lean forward on my feet—an athlete preparing for her run, the “shot gun” goes off with their faces now closer to mine. I sprint through the space between them, running to the farthest corner of the enclosure. The fresh wind whips my hair behind me and my eyes sting with tears. Their pathetic feet pound into the ground as they chase me.

As I approach the end of the enclosure, I turn around and run back the other way. The people above cheer and laugh as I head directly for the Guardians. When I’m a few inches away, I slide through the gap between them again, stand back up, and continue to run.

Looking back to see their smug faces, my body slams into something hard. I look up and see the third Guardian. I sigh, never look back, Priya. He grabs my hair and tosses me to the ground; I realize he must have come outside while I toyed with the other two. The Guardian picks me up and forces me to my knees. No sound escapes my lips as I wince from the pain. He pulls harder— I think the strands are going to come out. Still, I remain silent. The other Guardians catch up and I see their annoyance with me in straight, grim lines on their faces. They take turns smacking me across the face. Blood fills my mouth and I spit the dark crimson at them as they carry me inside. I can’t help but smile.

“See you in a bit, Ben!” I shout as blood spills out my mouth while they drag me away.

❦

Chills cover my skin as I lay restrained to a table. My gray dress slides up to my thigh from me struggling against the translucent restraints that are holding me down. The door on my left-hand side opens to escort Dr. Jenkins to where I am. His skin, an earthly brown, and the brightness of his gray-blue eyes compliments the smile seated beneath his sharp cheekbones on his chiseled face. He always has this look of knowing something those around him don’t. But he’s been my physician since I was five, and his presence brings a peace and security my body can rest in.

“Welcome back, Priya,” he says smiling.

He comes over to pull my dress down for me before scanning the code on my leg, 3-5-6-8-5-3. My mind traces back to the pain the tattoos brought as each number marked my calf. I feel the strapping down of my body to that table, the needle hitting my skin with high-pitched squeals. I remember the person who wrapped bandages over it and reminded me of words any two-year-old would understand: you’ll never escape now, Priya. Never. Then, my mind returns to the present. Dr. Jenkins releases the restraints.

“It’s good to see you again, Doc,” I beam at him and reach my arms up around his neck to hug him. He gently hugs me back and kisses the hair on top of my head.

“Priya, every visit with you is a pleasure, but I swear you get in more trouble than any other person in here. What are you in here for today?” Dr. Jenkins asks, bringing me back to focus.

“Please, if it weren’t for me, you’d be bored!”

“Debatable,” he says.

My eyes dart down as I rub my arm with guilt. My voice comes out small. “There was another rock shower. I did what you told me this time, and I stayed still. The viewers became bored quickly and stopped.”

The lines by his mouth droop and his eyes shift to the ceiling as if he’s looking for some retribution. “I’m sorry, Priya,” he says looking back down to me while squeezing my hand.

“Don’t apologize, Doc. They ought to know better but choose not to change.”

“Well, we can’t all be like you, now can we?” He winks.

“What a shame, right?”

“Well, at least your sense of humor is still intact.”

“Always.”

“Now, lean back for me so I can examine you.” Dr. Jenkins checks my ears, eyes, and throat, then my blood pressure and temperature. Finally, he reaches my wrist that has bruised and swelled significantly since the shower.

“Does this hurt?” He squeezes the purple flesh.

“s**t! Yes! Don’t do that!”

He laughs. “I’m sorry! It wasn’t intentional. I think you may have a stress fracture. Being the brilliant doctor I am, normally I would have fancy machines and pain meds to do all my work for me. However, they don’t share those types of resources for . . . “

“For us animals,” I finish his sentence. “You can say it. I understand.”

“For your people. All I can do is wrap it for now.” He grabs white gauze out of a metal drawer and gently covers my wrist. His deft fingers are gentle and quick.

We sit in silence as he finishes. No sarcastic comments from me and no guilty apologies from him.

“Thank you,” I whisper when the exam is over. “Dr. Jenkins, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Sure, anything you’d like.”

“Why do they have doctors for us? Wouldn’t it be easier just to let us die?” He rolls back in his chair to look at me better and I study his kind face.

“There are things that genetics can’t change, Priya. No matter how many times we alter someone, certain human aspects will always remain. There’s also a standard that must be maintained here—as horrible as it may be—to keep the visitors happy and complacent. When people visit here, they’re entertained and reminded what happens when they’re less than anything but genetically pure. I’m here to maintain the entertainment part. You’re here for the visual reminder. Together, we form a perfect union. So, I guess you can call their decision to help you a human error. A human error I thank every day I was chosen to deal with rather than someone else.” Dr. Jenkins’s eyes dart back and forth before he leans in; we are so close that his breath tickles my nose. Quietly, he says, “Sometimes, though, I can’t tell who the real animals are.”