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Page 51.
Scene 23. Siegrid Unger: Nights at the Tiergarten
 In Frankfurt on the River Main in Hesse, Germany, a pretty young blonde woman named Siegrid Unger, age 23, rolled out of bed in the gray hours of dawn. She moved silently, so as not to wake her live-in boyfriend Wolfgang. Wolf worked nights as a taxi driver. He came home after three in the morning, when the two usually made passionate love, before Siegrid left for work at seven a.m. Wolf slept most of the day, leaving for work before she got home.
She tiptoed around the apartment, brushing her teeth while wearing only skimpy pink briefs. She dressed while spooning strawberry yoghurt and sipping hot instant coffee. She had made her lunches last night, including a pastry and a bit of ham for the midmorning, a liverwurst on a slab of good brown farm bread, and a small white sausage with mustard and a roll for midafternoon.
Wearing jeans, a dark blue pullover with high rolled collar, and soft brown hiking shoes, she carried her purse and her lunch bag as she made her way to the nearest U-Bahn (Underground metro, subway). She and Wolf shared a small apartment in the Henning Tower district near the Südbahnhof (South Railway Station). Being young people, they were pleased to get away with a relatively small rent on a somewhat cramped, almost industrial street with some crime and noise. They were enjoying life together, though their hours were conflicted. On weekends they were inseparable. They went out often, either to their favorite hangouts or to the movies or whatever. Wolf was a kind young man, and she found him good looking. She was a nice blonde girl for him, slender, with long legs and small breasts, and blue eyes. Like all men, he simply needed a bit more parenting to grow up so they could talk about more serious things in life.
Siegrid boarded the U-3 subway at the train station. This took her north over the Main River. Near Hauptwache on the north side, she switched to the U-7. This took her almost directly to the Frankfurt Zoo.
There, in a locker room for women, she took her hot morning shower. Afterwards, she changed into a fresh work uniform left for her by the laundry service. One had to look good for the tourists. Her outfit consisted of black rubber wading boots up to the knee, really cool khaki jungle fatigues with a blue military style belt with the zoo logo for a buckle, and an Ami-style baseball cap of dark, felty blue. On it were the red colors of her home Fussball heroes, Eintracht Frankfurt. Los gehts, Adler! Go, Eagles!
Siegrid left her lunch locked in her locker, and headed out to her work zone. Along the way, she picked up the ring of keys required to open the section gate for visitors, who would come in starting around ten a.m. She took pride in her work, and hoped to make this her permanent job.
She was very conscientious. She picked up scraps of paper and put them in the trash can, and looked about for any signs of disorder. Everything was in order. Alles in Ordnung.
It was going to be a sunny, breezy day with blue skies and happy tourists. She could feel it in her bones as she slogged across the smooth concrete of her zoo section.
Whistling to herself, she unlocked the heavy steel doors and entered the main crocodile house.
Instantly hysterical, she stopped and screamed.
Somebody had let out three of the mature male Australian sweetwater crocs, which get to be three meters (just under ten feet) long. There they were—Rudi, Willi, and Franz—curled around their meal which was totally off schedule.
And therein lay the real cause for screaming.
Somebody had fed them a man for breakfast. There was actually little left of him. His clothing was in shreds and was mingled with the bloody piles of bone and meat that had been a human being. The man's head was a ball of exposed bluish-white bone, pinkish-gray brain matter, and ghastly red circles where eyes, nose, and mouth in a face had been.
The disaster still managed to look toward Siegrid as if asking for help.
One of the crocs was just now chewing on a rack of his ribs. Blood and gore covered the entire concrete apron, while other crocs looked on wistfully from behind thick glass and armored steel doors.
What really made Siegrid gag were the man's hands. They had come loose from the body, and lay detached at her toes as if ready to chase her. On one set of knuckles was a tattoo Love, while the other hand had Hate written across its knuckles.
Siegrid screamed again.
The crocs looked at her.
She ran so fast that her boots stayed behind.
One of the crocs lurched after her first, followed by the other two. They'd had a taste of human flesh, and seemed very enthusiastic about having more.
Breathless—retching, terrified—she stood in stocking feet and fumbled the padlock shut to save her own life. The gate slammed shut just as the leading crocodile's snout crashed against it. Another second and it would have been Siegrid’s turn for a lurid and gory death.
Too blind and breathless to scream, she was a blur, running for a nearby emergency phone.
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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