"Prisoners" by Carey Brooks

Behind a Baton Rouge gas station near Louisiana State University, a young man led a boy to visit a captive. Beastly though this prisoner was, confinement was all it had ever known, freedom a foreign state.

The older male escorted the younger across a walkway of cracked concrete. Bare trees stretched out their arms, making the two duck. They were strangers, and this was a professional relationship, a business transaction. They would have to be quick. The sun was getting weary, and the young boy would have to return home soon. The scraping of their feet across fallen leaves made up for the lack of conversation. A crisp breeze blew. It smelled like Halloween. The walk lasted longer than the boy anticipated.

“So you really got this thing, huh… sir?”

“Call me Brian,” the older male said. “Of course! Why do you think we’re called Tony’s Tiger Station?” Brian looked at the little boy again and scoffed. They approached a bone-white concrete structure. A dimly lit opening leered opposite the gas station. It was lined with lightly rusted vertical bars. “Now see for yourself, buddy. We really got this thing.”

The young boy approached the cage and observed the big cat. It was plopped down in the most shadowed corner, breathing slowly. Ribs were visible through the cat’s striated muscle and its thin coat. The creature appeared to be more of a carpet than a beast to the boy, its fur looking like piano keys with orange juice spilled over them. The kid slouched.

“What’s wrong with it?” he asked.

“What do you mean, what’s wrong with it?” Brian said.

“He’s starved! He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Nah, man, he’s just a vegetarian, like me.” A moment passed as the child stood silently. The tiger’s tail swayed lazily. “Tell you what,” he said as he went to the opposite end of the cage to fetch something. “You’re right. He could use a little beef. Another twenty bucks and I’ll let you feed him yourself.” The boy hesitated as Brian handed him the bucket of beef jerky. “C’mon, you can never do this at the zoo.”

Twenty bucks lighter and a half-pound of beef jerky heavier, the boy walked toward the cage.

“Hey, hey! Not too close now, and don’t go one step farther. Tony ain’t safe around nobody but me.”

The young boy rolled his eyes, but obeyed. He stood tossing the strips of jerky one by one between the cage bars. It was not until the fourth toss that Tony groggily rose up to dine on his fifth snack of the day. The boy continued until half the bucket was gone.

“So you can make him behave?” the boy asked.

“How do you mean?” asked Brian.

“He won’t bite you? You can make him tamer?”

“Well, yeah. Me, and only me, so….”

The young boy reached into his pocket. “I’ll give you another twenty if you make him let me pet him.”

Tempted, Brian stared at the bill for a moment, trying to pretend as if he found the notion funny. Another moment passed, and he looked back at the tiger biting into the jerky.

“Get your own tiger, kid.”

“Well, how did you get him anyway?” said the boy, shoving the money back into his front pocket.

“What do you mean get,” Brian said, running a hand through his own orange hair. “He’s my brother. Can’t you tell?”

The boy stared, unimpressed, and shook his head. “That’s stupid,” he said as he pulled a small camera from his pocket, walking right up to the cage. The tiger looked up from his food, squinting at the boy. The boy blinked and snapped a photograph of the tiger. A bright flash seared into the feline’s vision. Suddenly, Tony swiped his claws through the cage toward the boy. Brian’s arms wrapped around the boy, pulling him back. Tony arched his body in a crouching position and belted out a roar that blew through both of them.

“Dear God, are you crazy?” Brian yelled, thumping the child on the back of the head. The young boy scuffled to his feet, tripped, then managed to get up and run away. Brian watched the boy flee, hoping the kid would not call attention to the scene. Trying to catch his breath, Brian sat down against a tree a few feet from the cage. His nerves were still anxious, his heart uneasy. He closed his eyes, stretched, and took a breath to regain his composure. When he looked up, Tony was still aggravated, pacing back and forth in the relatively small cage.

Poor bastard, Brian thought as he stared through the metal bars. Better him than me though. At least he isn’t smart enough to understand what everyone on the outside says about him.

People’s assumptions often bothered Brian. It was hard to take care of such an awesome creature. Television networks have set a standard of what a healthy tiger looks like, making people think Tony was somehow a mere plush toy. Tony finally calmed down. He grunted. Brian shook his head in frustration.

But something else bothered Brian more about the kid, though. No one that came to visit the tiger ever really questioned how Tony was obtained. He feared growing speculation would attract the authorities. Sure, a couple of people would ask where Tony came from sometimes, but would not really persist after being told he was from Asia. How Brian got Tony was something he had not thought about in a long time.

It was five years ago that Brian was fired from being an animal feeder at the city zoo. Allegedly, he stole a thousand dollars among various other unrelated charges. The evidence against him was not credible, but Brian was the only employee with a criminal history, so the managers of the State Capitol Zoo had no doubt he was the culprit—which he was. With all the distress over the missing money, no one noticed another missing item: a set of janitor keys.

Soon after Brian was fired, Hurricane Cathy was about to strike, putting the zoo in jeopardy. She was expected to blow through the center of Baton Rouge, and many speculated she would destroy the zoo. All of the animals were being shipped off to North Louisiana in cages. Aware that the zoo’s tiger had just given birth to a litter of cubs, Brian decided to take advantage of the situation. A few nights before the scheduled shipping, video footage that was never watched captured two young men running from the zoo gates; one was holding a baby tiger concealed in a blanket.

“Man, you already have all these other charges, so how is stealing this thing going to help again?” asked Brian’s friend, Freddie, as they made their way back to their apartment.

“Because, no one’s ever gonna find out. And after a while, I’ll have enough money to pay off the fines, or just live off the royalties in Mexico. I haven’t decided yet.”

The baby tiger squirmed in Freddie’s hands and let out a tiny squeal. Friction itched down Freddie’s arms. His nostrils filled with steam, and he sneezed onto Brian.

“Jeez, what is this cat doing to me?”

Brian laughed, “Probably what every furry creature does to you, man. It’s obvious I’m going to have to take care of this little guy all by myself.” He took the tiger from Freddie.

“Well, this scheme is a bit farfetched if you ask me. Until then, the station is the only thing we have to support us. You’re lucky you’re the only friend I got.”

And it was true. Freddie’s parents had died five years before in a car crash, leaving what would become Tony’s Tiger Station in Freddie’s inheritance when he turned eighteen. Brian grew up with parents that might as well have been dead. He always hung around and stayed at Freddie’s family’s house anyway, so when the house grew empty, the two boys living together became a permanent arrangement. Not so much living in the house itself, but the condition of the two boys being inseparable. When the house’s bills became too much, they moved into a less expensive apartment together. Every endeavor one boy pursued was encouraged by the other.

Without a cage yet constructed, the little tiger had to stay in their apartment for awhile. Freddie insisted on taking the elevator for fear of a mishap down the stairs with the little cub. Brian reluctantly agreed. They entered the elevator; Brian took a breath as the metal doors clanged shut behind him. Brian felt sick in the stiff air. He slowly traced his free hand along the side rail taking a spot in the far corner with the baby tiger tightly in his grasp. Settled in, button pressed, Brian exhaled. He nervously watched the light that flickered off above his head and the floor monitor, unsure if someone might come in and discover them. Their floor seemed like an eternity away. The usually talkative free spirit remained silent while ascending the apartment complex. Freddie ineffectively suppressed a smile. Brian then decided, no matter how many flights of stairs it took, he would climb them rather than be trapped in that box.

-

Today like every day, Tony’s Tiger Station was boring. Oil from the hot dog machine filled the air with its scent as a breeze blew through a crack in the glass door. Fliers for missing dogs, erectile dysfunction pills, and local garage bands flitted under push pins on the cork board. Behind the counter, Freddie swayed back and forth on a metal stool as he habitually slid the cash register open and shut. He listened to the jangling of the machine’s bell and the clanging coins inside. Beneath the register Freddie kept the lottery tickets and a .22 revolver that he never had to use. Luckily, Tony’s Tiger Station was in a particularly safe area of town. Freddie opened the lowest drawer and traced his finger along the edges of a box of bullets. The gun and its bullets had belonged to Freddie’s father when he owned the store. Freddie tossed the box back into the open drawer and watched the world through the window. This is how most of Freddie’s time passed in the store, with or without Brian lurking around with his side business.

Freddie stared blankly as the television screen behind him hummed. A football game was on. A feeling in his gut made him worry. He looked around for something in the store that was out of place to keep him busy. Unfortunately, everything was tidy. Freddie was about to start counting the ceiling tiles when he noticed a little boy that had bought some Skittles earlier outside the window. He was running from behind the gas station down the street. His dark hair flew behind him, his movements were frantic. Freddie’s gaze followed the boy to the bus stop until he was out of view. His stomach churned.

Eventually Freddie grew distracted again and started watching the game. Physical mashing and smashing lost its context in Freddie’s running imagination and soon the players were merely colors painted across his television set. Flashes of gold, navy, and orange slathered into a meaningless blur.

Ding, ding, ding!

The bell above the door resonated as someone walked in. It was an abrupt gait. The rubber soles of authority. Freddie turned around to find a man dressed in blue. It was Officer Murphy.

“Smells great in here. Good job,” the officer said

“Hey,” said Freddie.

“How ya do, Fred?”

“Not too bad. Yourself?”

“Good, good.” Officer Murphy looked at the television. “Brigham Young versus Auburn, eh? So it’s… Mormons versus rednecks.”

"Yeah."

Murphy stood straight and sighed.

“Plain and simple, Fred—you boys are lucky they let you keep that thing. And I know y’all are doing your best, so I try to ignore most complaints. But there’s not much more I can do when I got little kids running up to my station talking about a starved, bloodthirsty beast almost swattin’ their head off. I promised your aunt I’d do whatever I could to protect y’all long as I could, but if some less familiar cops come around and aren’t satisfied, you know what’s gonna happen next.”

Freddie started attending to store duties as if Officer Murphy wasn’t there, but kept a wary ear. Murphy continued.

“They’ll check both of your background information, and you should be fine, but Brian—with his crimes stacked sky high—not so much. And if they put him away…you know it’ll be for a good long time.”

Freddie was silent as he swept the already clean floor. The broom handle was shaking a little.

“Y’all take care now, Fred.” The bell rang again and the door shut once more. Freddie threw the broom down and paced back and forth. He stomped his foot and threw a potato chip rack to the floor. Freddie was about to punch his fist into the thin wooden wall when he felt his arm being sucked backwards.

“What the hell are you doing?” Brian said, still holding on to Freddie’s arm. Freddie relaxed his bicep.

“Officer Murphy said they’re coming for you. All because of that damn tiger. You didn’t take care of it well enough! Look at us! I can’t let them take you away. I’ve got to do something!”

“Calm down, calm down... No one’s going to take me. They’re too stupid.”

“You’re stupid! I’m tired of you thinking you can pull one over on everyone.” Freddie shook as he locked eyes with Brian.

“What? We have a permit. It’s completely legal,” Brian said.

Freddie threw his hands in the air as breath escaped his body. “But for how long, Brian? For how long? Sooner or later someone’s going to ask where we got it, and they’re going to press hard. When they realize we stole it, your war with the law is going to be over, and I’m going to be taken down with you. I’ve got to do something.” Freddie walked toward the counter.

“What are you doing?” Brian asked.

“Putting it out of its misery,” Freddie said as he bent down behind the counter.

“No!” Brian ran up behind Freddie and tried to pry Freddie’s grip from the gun with both of his hands. Freddie elbowed Brian in the face with his right arm and secured his grasp on the weapon. Brian fell backward, knocking over cigarette boxes, energy pills, and batteries hanging on the wall.

As Freddie walked away, Brian got up in a stagger. He lifted his head to see his friend Freddie holding the revolver aimed at his chest. Freddie cocked the gun. The two stood breathless. Almost ten seconds passed before Brian slowly lifted his hands in defeat, and Freddie spoke.

“This—is for the best, Brian. You’ll see.” And he left.

Brian waited a full minute and then pressed his back against the wall. He slowly slid to the floor, trying to regain his thoughts. He was still hazy from the blow Freddie put on his head. He began to tidy up the mess when he noticed the bottom drawer ajar. He opened it further and saw the box of bullets. Brian lifted the box with woeful curiosity; it was completely full.

Brian grabbed the bullets and sprinted toward Freddie. In the distance Brian could see Freddie entering the cage. He was a terrible shot, nervous in his resolve. Freddie approached Tony, sprawled out at the end of the cage, opposite from the entrance. Brian could see his friend hesitate, really staring at the sleeping tiger for the last time. And perhaps the first time.

Freddie cocked the gun. Short on breath, Brian swallowed back a warning and watched in horror as Freddie tried to fire. The sound that came from the peashooter was hollow like the crack of a whip on a smooth surface. The click still managed to disturb the tiger. Tony recoiled in confusion, eyes narrowed and nostrils flaring at the stranger. Freddie froze, staring stupidly at the gun.

Brian finally reached the cage, but only to see Tony lunge from a crouching position, pinning Freddie against the bars. His claws were sinking into the sides of Freddie’s chest. Tony’s mouth reared back showing proud white teeth.

“No!” Brian screamed while opening the entrance of the cage.

Tony hesitated. He recognized the roar of his father, his master. Tony turned away from his prey as the metallic squeaking agitated the evening air. The cage’s door completely yawned, and all the of the prison air deflated. Tony ran toward the entrance to the world. Escaping the metal and concrete, his muscles sank into the grass, wholesome and pure. Tony rushed past Brian, his paws digging into the soft earth. The tiger disappeared across the road and behind a patch of trees.

Brian called an ambulance. Then he hoisted his friend Freddie from the cage and propped him against a tree. Freddie spoke between choking noises.

“Just—just go. There’s nothing. Take the money, all the earnings, and go.” Freddie’s gaze was weak. Brian shook his head in confusion.

“You know what will happen if you stay. You’ve got to go.”

Brian sat in silence. Soon the ambulance came. Brian helped the paramedics lift Freddie onto the gurney. One of the paramedics spoke.

“Your friend needs you now, are you coming?”

Brian looked into Freddie’s eyes, pleading for one last response as to what he should do. Freddie tried to speak, but all he could do was cough onto Brian’s face. Brian closed his eyes. The sirens squealed in pulses, scorching through Brian’s cluttered thoughts like a choir of angels singing off key. The humid stench of frayed flesh made Brian clench his eyes even tighter. Brian tried to imagine a world empty enough for a bad friend and a tiger to roam about freely, and a world without Freddie. Brian took a deep breath as the heavy doors of the metal cube clicked and swung open.

“Son, are you going or not?” the paramedic said to Brian as Freddie was taken from him into the little square room. The vehicle was impatient and humming loudly.

Brian wept. He opened his eyes and peered inside.