Chapter Five
“There have been five in total. One in 1918, a drifter was found clawed up and gored. They never ever figured out what his name was. He’s buried in an unmarked grave in the town cemetery. In 1935, a prostitute was found with her throat ripped out and claw marks all over her face. Another in 1972, a bunch of hippies were smoking up on Lev land, they were doing some sort of Wiccan spell under the full moon. According to stories, a huge lion tore through their group and killed two of them. And then in 1978-”
“I get it,” I said. “But why hasn’t anyone done anything about it? If there is a lion running around killing people, shouldn’t someone have caught it by now? It must be a whole family of them. Lion’s don’t live that long, do they?”
“No, they don’t. Why don’t you tell me what you saw and then I’ll answer your questions?”
I told him everything. I detailed my cold terrified night. It turned out Hank ran a sort of conspiracy theory website for the town. He had been cataloging the lion attacks, searching the old historical records and looking for some sort of pattern.
“The Lev family swears they don’t have anything to do with it. The police and animal control have searched the property multiple times, but they’ve never found anything.”
“So, why are you convinced they have something to do with it?”
He looked at me aghast and then said, “Do you know what Lev means?”
I shook my head and then sneezed loudly into a tissue. I was feeling worse. Thankfully Harold and Sarah kept some aspirin in the back, but it wasn’t doing much good. My head was pounding and my nose was getting stuffy.
“It’s Russian for Lion,” Hank said. “This family of Russian billionaires comes here with the last name lion and then there’s a bunch of lion sightings. That can’t be a coincidence.”
“So, you think that they’re lion tamers?” I asked.
“No, I think they’re lion breeders. Shady people love having rare, exotic animals as pets. It’s a status thing for them. And what is more exotic and rare than a lion? An actual pet lion. A fool and his money are soon parted and there are plenty of fools who would pay a lot of money so they could brag about a pet tiger.”
I was so tired. This was too much. I didn’t want to have anything to do with illegal lion breeders. I pulled my blanket around my shoulders, my throat was getting sore and my headache was getting worse.
“So, can I put your story on my website?” he asked.
“Sure,” I said with a shrug. “Just don’t put my name or any identifying information. At all. This is very important.”
“Complete anonymity. But the people of this town deserve to know what’s going on down at the Lev property. Just because they’re rich doesn’t mean they can let dangerous, wild animals roam around.”
I was barely listening, I felt awful. I was cold, shivering from head to toe, but my face felt hot. I kept pressing my cold hands to my hot cheeks in an effort to spread the warmth.
“Are you alright?” Hank asked.
“I spent the night in an abandoned barn in winter in Maine, I don’t feel great,” I said.
“Well, here’s my website. Look for your story, it’ll be up by tomorrow,” he slid a cheap looking business card towards me.
“Thanks,” I said with a sniffle. “But no information about me on the website.”
“Agreed,” Hank said.
A fog descended on me as Hank left. My vision was going blurry and my head was pounding. I had never been more tired in my entire life. After he left, I found I couldn’t remember too many details from our conversation. Everything felt fuzzy and far away. I wanted a bed. A warm, soft bed that I could fall into and sleep for as long as I wanted.
The bells on the door jingled and then to my surprise I saw Anton Lev enter. He stepped through the door and took his hat off, slipping it into his pocket. I looked up at him with my hooded eyes.
He made his way over to me, resting his hands on the counter.
“Hello, Kristen,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied. My voice was slurred and my eyes were struggling to stay open. Was all of this his fault? Could Hank have been right? Were the Lev’s breeding lions? It seemed so improbable as to be impossible. But I had seen the lion with my own two eyes. I had heard his roar and seen the yellow eyes of a predator that would have easily devoured me.
“You don’t look very well,” he said. “Are you feeling alright?”
“I might be coming down with something,” I said staring right into his strong, dark eyes. “I spent the night trapped in your barn being hunted by a wild animal.”
“Yes, I heard from the police,” he said. “I’m sorry that happened. If I can offer you anything in the form of help. Anything you need.”
“Why was there a lion on your property last night?” I demanded.
“A lion?” he asked and for a second, I almost believed that he was shocked. But there was something in his eyes that wasn’t quite right. He was lying. “There aren’t any lions on my property. Maybe it was a coyote or-”
“Do you think I’m an idiot?” I asked him. “I know the difference between a lion and a coyote.”
I swallowed and it hurt so much it brought tears to my eyes. I was so tired that I wanted to cry. I looked at this rich, handsome, rugged man standing across from me. He would probably leave here and get into his fancy car, all nice and warm. And then head home to his huge, giant mansion. I hated him at that moment.
“Why were you in the barn?” he asked, his voice terse. “The property boundary is clearly marked with no trespassing signs.”
I shrugged, “fuck the signs.”
“Ignoring the signs is what led you to be trapped in the barn,” he countered.
“No, you breeding lions on your property is what caused me to be trapped in a freezing cold barn all night long.”
“What?” he demanded and this was an honest what. He honestly had no idea what I was talking about. “Don’t believe that nonsense. We don’t breed lions, tigers or anything like that. We never have. It’s a stupid rumor.”
“I know what I saw,” I said.
“I’m taking you to the doctor,” he said shaking his head.
“I’m fine,” I said, my voice loud. “I’m just tired. I need to get some sleep and then I’ll be fine.”
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“None of your damn business,” I said, pulling back and away from him.
“Look, this is a small town. Everyone knows that you’re here, but no one knows where you’re staying. Which makes me think that you’re not staying somewhere good. You were trapped on my property last night and now you look very sick. I want to make that right.”
“I don’t need your charity,” I said. I couldn’t go to the doctor, I had to stay hidden. My father had eyes everywhere.
“Why are you being so obstinate?” he demanded. “I’m trying to help you. That’s all.”
“I’m fine on my own,” I replied.
He shook his head. I don’t remember him leaving. I barely remember leaving the bookstore. I locked the doors, set the alarm and headed towards my squatter’s paradise in a thick haze of fever.
It was starting to snow. Big, heavy, puffy flakes of snow that settled on my head and shoulders, clinging to my jacket. Already the snow was beginning to stick to the tops of cars and buildings. It was going to be a doozy. They were predicting two feet.
I was ready, I thought, as I stumbled towards my office suite. I had plenty of dry firewood and some fruit. Plus, I could walk to the bookstore even through thick snow. I just had to get through the night.
I could feel that I had a fever. I had taken some aspirin with me and I took three of them once I was in my little nest. I wasn’t sure if I should be taking them, because of the baby, but being sick would’ve probably harmed it more, so I decided to risk it.
It felt wonderful to be laying down. I was so, so tired. I forced myself to build a small fire and pop the window open.
I could stay awake a little while longer, just until the fire went down. I just needed to keep my eyes open.