Page 7 of Sanctuary

Misty had been warned by her parents about girls like Paige, worldly girls that would lead her to sin. Those lessons didn’t seem to matter right now. There was something intriguing about Paige.

“Maybe,” Misty said.

“That’s good enough for now. I don’t know when it will be, but if you betray me, sleep lightly, because I will hurt you.”

“Okay?” Misty said, and it was more like a question.

“I like you,” Paige said and smiled. “I think we will get along. That’s hard here. I noticed the bruise on your face and I took a wild guess that you were a rule breaker like me. I can tell I’m better at it though. For now, we behave. It will keep them from guessing our plans.”

Misty had nothing planned but she nodded.

Another bell rang and the girls stood as one. The girl closest to the door on her side walked toward it. Paige stayed where she was when Misty followed.

“I have cleanup duty,” she said semi-loudly as Misty headed for the door.

“Stay away from her or she will get you in trouble,” the girl who sat on the other side of Misty whispered.

That was okay. Being good her entire life got Misty sent here. Maybe it was time she broke some rules.

Chapter Six

Savage Sanctuary Island, Simon

Simon checked the cat pens one last time before he headed to his room. He received equal measures of growls and purrs from the lions, and hissing from smaller breeds. Overall, about half the cats were Simon-friendly and half were not. He fed them every meal they consumed, which gave him special privileges. He also knew all the cats were dangerous to most humans, even Indra. The large tiger had a calm reputation, but that meant nothing. He was still a wild animal. Simon always remembered that, and when it slipped his mind, he only had to look where his missing fingers should be.

He opened the door to the feeding hut, and the smell of old meat filled his nostrils. He didn’t mind; it was simply something that went along with caring for large cats.

His tiny bedroom, located on the far side of the hut, consisted of a single, wobbly bed that barely fit his girth and left his feet hanging over the end. He never bothered making it, and the covers were a rumpled mess. Using bricks and scrap wood, Simon had built a shelf unit that sat along one wall and held most of his clothes. It was so much better than living on the streets that no matter how it looked, Simon thought of it as his castle.

The bathroom was on the opposite side of the hut. The toilet and shower were old and yellowed, but they worked, and Simon valued being clean after a long day. It was something else he brought with him mentally. The ability to use the toilet and take a shower were part of his castle.

The center of the hut held a ten-foot-long metal prep table for butchering. He made his own meals there too. Four large freezers took up the most wall space. They held the frozen meat that was purchased in bulk.

He loved this place, smells and all.

Before Jerry brought him to the sanctuary, Simon had lived under a freeway overpass for a long time. He’d been raised in a group home, but after he turned eighteen, they’d kicked him out with an extra set of clothes and a hundred dollars. It was more money than he’d ever seen. It took two days before someone stole the money and clothes so he only had what he wore on his back. Those were the bad times when he was always hungry.

Simon couldn’t find a job due to the problems he was born with. Add in the lack of decent clothing, and he didn’t have a chance. People saw his size and their eyes grew large and fearful. Once they spoke to him, they snickered and made fun of who he was. The people on the streets were different. They minded their own business and didn’t want you in theirs. The isolation became his way of life. The world was a cruel place and Simon was kicked from one location to another by police until he found the overpass.

He didn’t like remembering his time at the group home or his time on the streets. One of the ladies at the home told him he was there because his mother didn’t want a brain-damaged baby. There was never any mention of a father, but most kids in the home didn’t have dads, and some never knew their mothers.

Simon lived in the same group home since he was a baby. His earliest memory was someone picking him up when he was crying and putting him in his room, then locking the door so he couldn’t get out. He was maybe three. There was never consistency, which he didn’t like. The adults who worked there, especially the nice ones, never stayed for long and the rules changed constantly.

That’s why he liked the sanctuary so much. It rarely changed. Jerry would always be mean. Simon would continue to give the cats the best life possible. For him, this was great. For the cats, Simon’s care might be the only kindness they’d ever had. They deserved freedom.

He hated what would happen to Carla and Tibby, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The state kept a close watch on legal cats, but the ones they didn’t know about fell through the cracks. Jerry had lectured him too many times on how much it cost to keep the sanctuary running. The money Carla and Tibby would bring from an illegal hunt would mean the other cats got special meals for a short time.

Jerry always told him he was broke and keeping the sanctuary open was hard. He’d warned for too many years to count that he would just close the place and get a job that would pay more. Simon believed the threat so he did the things he didn’t like doing. All but tying the chicken’s feet. That he could not do.

He spent extra time watching the two females while they ate that morning, his stomach not feeling well when he thought about what would happen to them. He loved them already, even though they only growled and snarled when he came around. They were frightened and they had good reason to be.

These thoughts tumbled through his head while he tried to fall asleep. When they wouldn’t go away, he took the blanket from the bed and headed to Indra’s cage. He’d done this many nights, and it was the safest time to spend with Indra because the darkness scared Jerry, and if he stayed overnight on the island, he never came close to the cages after the sun went down.

Indra gave a distinctive chortle when Simon unlocked his pen and came inside. He immediately walked up to the big man and rubbed his head over the side of Simon’s leg.

“I hope you need company,” Simon said and scratched his fingers into the dense fur.

He went to the corner, spread the blanket, and lifted the side so it half-covered him after he lay down. Indra took the other side, and Simon scooted into his warmth. They’d slept many nights this way. He inhaled the scent of tiger and the other smells from the night: saltwater, machine oil, which Simon used to oil the cage doors, a little mold, and a lot of Indra’s unique musk that was truly his own. Simon loved Indra’s scent the most, though he liked how all the cats smelled from day one.

---