Did Not Survive Read Free

kick one another at the water hole.
    Keepers clustered near us as they trickled in, the office staff segregating themselves on the other side of the room. I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sam sitting behind us looking haggard. I was surprised he left the barn under Ian’s supervision. Civilians in animal areas required constant vigilance, and police would be especially challenging. Ian was hired as the new elephant keeper three months ago. Would Sam already trust him? Perhaps the officers had finished and left.
    Dr. Jean Reynolds, the zoo’s veterinarian, sat in our group, with Kayla Leadon, the veterinary technician. “Poor Kevin. This totally freaks me out,” Kayla said to the vet. “Elephants are supposed to be wise and gentle. I didn’t think they killed people, at least not the tame ones.”
    None of us chose to enlighten her. Elephants in captivity kill a keeper every year or two in the United States or Europe. In India, where more people have contact with the animals, the toll is two hundred people a year or more. When you weigh four tons, a moment’s irritation or panic is easily fatal for any human in the way.
    With all the on-duty staff present except for Jackie Margulis, the office secretary, the little room was full. Jackie was stuck in the office to deal with the press and public, not to mention the phones. She would expect me to brief her afterward.
    Mr. Crandall waited at the podium in front while stragglers seated themselves. The director was tall and silver-haired, erect of posture, usually benign and confident, a white beard confirming his silverback status. His age was a closely held secret, and the word “retirement” was not to be spoken in his hearing. Today he looked grim and preoccupied. I had a brief flare of hope that he would know something I didn’t, something to make sense of this dreadful morning.
    Only last week, Wallace stood at that same podium to run the keeper meeting, reporting the zoo’s slow progress toward accreditation by the National Association of Zoos, urging us to chat nicely with visitors at every opportunity, announcing that he had tentatively found a pair of orangutans available for breeding loan.
    Mr. Crandall stiffened to attention and muted conversation ceased. “We’ve had a serious accident here at the zoo today, and I want you all to have the facts, to the extent they are known. Kevin Wallace was found early this morning unconscious in the front elephant stall with Damrey. We do not know his medical condition at this time except to say that it seems serious. It appears that Damrey attacked him. He is receiving the best medical care, and I will keep you apprised of his condition to the extent possible.”
    By the muttered exclamations, I gathered that Wallace’s calamity was news to some.
    Mr. Crandall waited for the murmurs to die down. “We will take all precautions to prevent any additional accidents. From now on, our elephant management is changed to protected-contact. No one will go in with either elephant under any circumstances. They will be managed entirely by remote procedures. Under the circumstances, Damrey must be considered an extremely dangerous animal.”
    This was greeted with silence. I half-expected Sam to protest and glanced back at him. He sat with his back stiff and said nothing.
    Mr. Crandall had more. “Please understand the seriousness of this incident. If it weren’t for fast action by Iris Oakley, who happened to be on the grounds, Kevin Wallace could well have been killed outright, and certainly Damrey would have been shot to allow emergency personnel to reach him.”
    â€œSam did it,” I protested. “He walked me through it on the phone. I didn’t know what to do.”
    Mr. Crandall’s gaze shifted to me, but his expression did not flicker. “I appreciate that you worked well together. It is what I expect of our staff and what you always