were guarding the bridge with rifles. The two trucks of The World’s Greatest Show were still there.
‘You the vet they radioed us about?’ the patrolman said, chewing gum.
‘Yes. And please point that gun elsewhere.’
He lowered the gun and scratched his cheek. ‘Nobody don’ go through. Wal …’ he said, ‘there’s the trucks. Since eight o’clock this mornin’.’
‘But have you seen them?’
‘Nope. Only person seen ’em is Sergeant Hooks an’ his pardner an’ they both in bed, sore’n a gumboil.’
The deputy sheriff came over from his car. He raised his hat. ‘What can I do for you, ma’am?’
‘Has anybody tried to track these animals, officer?’ she demanded.
‘Sure have, ma’am. I was first on the scene after Bert Hooks got himself overturned. Tracked ’em for two miles, then the sheriff radioed me back, orders from the zoo.’
‘Where was the spoor heading?’
‘Straight down the Appalachian Trail, ma’am, far’s I seen.’
‘But you’re throwing a cordon round the area?’
‘Sure are, ma’am. Over forty men in there already, and the state troopers are arriving any time now, and the militia.’
She closed her eyes. ‘What are their orders?’
‘Stop the animals gettin’ out into civilized area, ma’am, till the experts arrive.’
‘How?’ she demanded. ‘By shooting them?’
‘Only as a last resort, ma’am. We can’t have lions and tigers coming into town.’
‘Noise!’ she cried. ‘You’ve got to shout and beat a can to chase them back—never shoot! Where’s the Sheriff?’
The lawman sighed. ‘He’s up there, ma’am. With some very good men, don’t doubt it.’
‘Up there? In a helicopter?’
‘No ma’am, not in a helicopter. Those woods are too dense for that.’
‘Well, I have to go in there, officer.’
The Deputy stared at her.
‘Ma’am,’ he said quietly, ‘you’re not going anywhere. Only authorized personnel.’
‘I am authorized! I’m the vet!’
‘Ma’am,’ he said firmly, ‘I’m not letting you go in there. You won’t get nowhere with those shoes anyhow. That’s tough wilderness in there. I’m not letting you go in without an armed escort—and I’m not supplying that, ma’am. We ain’t got enough men for this job as it is.’
‘I can look after myself!’
The officer sighed and put a weary hand on his hip.
‘Ma’am—you cannot look after yourself, vet or no vet. They’re wild animals at large in there! And two very wild men! In very wild country. With those shoes’—he pointed at her feet—‘and unless we’re very smart there’re goin’ to be a good few other wild folk in there with their guns—and they’re no better man animals, ma’am.’ He looked at her sternly. ‘I don’t know where you come from, but this here’s the United States of America—haven’t you heard what gun-mad SOBs we are!’ He glared at her. ‘And I’m not letting you loose amongst that lot!’
She felt her stomach go cold. She was not going to argue with him. Wherever they were, the animals weren’t near here. They’d be as far away as possible from the trucks. She turned and grabbed her roadmap out of the rented car.
‘What’s the next road to the south that crosses the Appalachians?’
The lawman sighed. ‘Highway Nineteen W, ma’am. At Spivey Gap.’
‘How far south?’
‘’Bout ten, twelve miles, ma’am. As the crow flies.’
‘Is that barricaded by police too?’
‘Sheriff’s workin’ on it, ma’am. You won’t get through that way either.’
‘How do I get there?’
‘Back through Erwin,’ the patrolman said resignedly.
On her way back to Erwin the cars had been lined up at the police roadblock, newspapermen and sightseers and at least a dozen cars full of men, armed with rifles, volunteering to help.
Elizabeth sped through the town onto the interstate highway, then took the turnoff to Spivey Gap. Her dread turned to anger. There were still no police barricades on this road! She wound up into the mountains. At the crest there were only two police cars, the patrolmen keeping the traffic moving. They waved her through.
A cordon around the area, my foot!
She drove past the police angrily, her eyes darting at the forest to left and right, looking for … for what? Signs, spoor, elephant droppings, broken bushes—my God! Like looking for a needle on the edge of a vast haystack.
She felt absolutely helpless. Hopeless … Looking for any indication of the animals’ having crossed the road. She drove slowly, peering at the road, at the edges of the forest. Nothing … If there were something, she’d miss it, like this. Hopeless … She’d have to get out and do it properly. Then, around a bend in the highway, she saw the small metal signpost of the Appalachian Trail.
She stopped her car on the verge. She hurried across the highway, to the point where the Appalachian Trail came out of the forest and crossed the road. She looked at it. It was just a tangled dirt path worn through the undergrowth, a foot wide. No spoor that she could see. Silence, everything motionless. She took a deep breath and started to climb the bank of the highway, onto the trail.
Dr. Elizabeth Johnson was no expert tracker, but she had been on two zoological expeditions to Africa, and one to the Rockies, and she knew what to look for. She kept her head down as she climbed the narrow, winding trail, searching the ground, eyes flicking sideways to the undergrowth. Within two minutes her legs were aching. She toiled up the slope through the forest, frequently stopping, her heart hammering from the unaccustomed exertion.
After half a mile she stopped, sweating, her breath coming in gasps.
She had not seen a single sign of animals. She crouched, panting, and examined the hard earth for her own footprints. My God—even they were hard to find. Just a tiny scrape here and there. The light was so difficult for tracking, the trail dappled with shadow, sunlight shifting through the boughs. She stared helplessly at the unyielding trail; but she did not believe that twenty-odd big animals, including elephants, could have passed without leaving some mark.
She straightened up, and listened. Just the rustle of leaves, the twitter of a bird. She could not even hear the vehicles on the highway,
