The Chosen One

         The sign read No Trespassing. For as long as he could remember, Raimey had wondered what it said. Until this moment, he had only seen the back of the sign, from the other side of the fence. The inside.

         He stood for a moment in the dark of the pre-dawn morning, shivering slightly from the wind. Finally liberated, he found it strange to feel more fear than relief. For the briefest of instances, he contemplated going back. But back to what? Captivity and torment. Out of the question. Besides, he had a higher calling. Raimey understood that the events in motion were out of his hands now. It was destiny. The quest had begun.

          Now, with his courage returning, he sought reassurance from a higher power. He knelt down and opened his pack, removing its lone content. Wrapped in a piece of gray blanket, he cradled the black orb against his chest. The orb made no sound, but emitted a faint, soothing glow from within that warmed him, gave him hope.

          The orb had been a gift from The Voice. He did not know who the voice belonged to, only that it spoke to him, and him alone. The others had denied hearing it. He could not recall when it had started communicating instructions to him, only that he had initially been afraid and begged it to stop. That had all changed with the appearance of the orb. It had served to confirm all of the divine instruction he had received, acting as an earthly embodiment of The Voice itself. The prophecy foretold the fall of the Empire, and Raimey would play his role.

         He set off in his shuffling gait, moving quickly through the grass, taking care to stay near the cover of trees when possible. There was a surge of adrenaline as he reached the street, stopping to get his bearings. He had never seen it so completely deserted. He became aware of how much more visible he was under the streetlights and opting for caution, reached into the inside pocket of his windbreaker and removed a pair of plastic sunglasses from his last eye appointment. After putting on the over sized glasses, he took a moment to adjust the brim on his battered old baseball cap before continuing on down the sidewalk.

          He moved with haste and purpose, though the journey would not be a long one. Three blocks to go. It was a trek he had previously made on several occasions. However, none of them had been alone and they had certainly not carried the importance of this one.

         Within a few minutes, he was able to see his destination, its walls looming ahead in the distance like a fortress. Within those walls, the Great Beast was waiting for him.

         He moved cautiously now, steering clear of the main entrance and continuing on around the side of the structure, following the curve of the wall. The wall stood about 12 feet high and he could not hope to scale it on his own. He had to find a tree or a pole in close enough proximity to aid him. Just then, he spotted one. He smiled to himself. Destiny.

         Raimey did not know what kind of tree it was, but it was sturdy and had branches low enough for him to reach. Slightly overweight and not particularly athletic, the climb was more of a struggle than he had anticipated. He lost his balance several times, but after some tense moments, he reached a branch that extended out over the wall. He stopped to catch his breath, using his pack to wipe the sweat from his face. Using a smaller, higher branch to hold onto, he stepped out onto the bigger branch, moving sideways in small, careful increments. About five feet from the wall, the branch began to bow under his weight, causing him to tense up and nearly drop the orb. He panicked and began moving faster. There was a sharp cracking sound as the branch admitted defeat. For a second, he froze, waiting to plummet to the sidewalk below. Then, recognizing how close he was, he went for it, leaping for the top of the wall.

         In his panic, he overshot his landing. As his feet hit the brick top of the wall, his momentum told him he was going over inevitably, so he jumped, arms flailing like a flightless bird. And then he was on his back, in a bush, staring up at a full moon in a starless sky.

         He groaned, then closed his eyes, taking inventory of the various pains in his body inflicted by the roots of the bush. When satisfied he had suffered no major injuries, he took a deep breath, opened his eyes... and found himself staring into the face of a tall, dark-skinned man in a uniform. A sentry.

         The man spoke to him in a deep, authoritative voice, "What the hell are you doing, man? You can't be in here."

         Raimey groaned, but said nothing. Instead, he closed his eyes again while slyly maneuvering his right arm into his pocket.

         The man dropped to one knee and leaned over him, speaking again, " Hey! You okay? Can you walk?"

         Raimey opened his eyes and spoke in a barely audible mumble, feigning disorientation.

         The guard's face registered annoyance. " Say what now? Taste? Do you need medical att-"

         Raimey struck in mid-sentence. Pulling a blood-stained weapon from his pocket, he sat up too quickly for the guard to react and plunged the blade into the guard's throat.

         " Taste my dagger, oppressor!"

         The guard immediately slumped forward, on top of Raimey, gurgling and gasping. Raimey felt the warm, wet sensation of blood running onto his face and down his shirt as he struggled for a moment to get from under the heavy man. When he had succeeded in freeing himself from both bush and body, he snatched up his pack, using it to wipe blood from his eyes as he limped through the darkness.

         He picked up speed, head frantically snapping back and forth, left and right, searching for a familiar landmark to give him his bearings. Everything looked so different under the cover of darkness. It would only be a matter of time before someone else spotted him. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, providing endurance, and then he saw it. Straight ahead, with no obstacles in sight, the compound of the Great Beast. Destiny.

         The compound was basically a rocky outcropping with a few trees and a series of caves. It was surrounded by a low stone wall, but set into the ground in a way that left a deep drop-off on the other side of the wall.

         Raimey had previously determined his entry point. While hopping the wall would be child's play, the steep fall would make injury unavoidable. Except at one point. He moved all the way to the left end of the wall, where the ground on the other side rose up higher than at any other spot. Tucking his pack inside his jacket, he carefully slid his body, stomach down, over the top of the wall. Rotating as he did so, in order to allow himself to hang down from the wall before he dropped. He braced himself for the fall, took a breath, and let go.

         He hit the ground feet first, then went down onto his backside with a thud. The landing jarred his bones a bit, but left him unhurt. He slowly came to his feet and did a 360 degree turn, taking in his surroundings. A short ways up, near the top of the rocky slope, there were three cave entrances. Time to climb.

         He made his way up, slowly and cautiously, clawing at rocks and plants for support. The slope was not steep, but he had taken enough falls today, and the aches in his body had begun to intensify despite the euphoria in his heart. Without making a conscious decision, he aimed for the entrance of the middle cave, as if drawn to it. With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself up into the mouth of the cave, staring into seemingly endless blackness. Then, as if out of nowhere, two large, amber colored eyes materialized, appearing to hover in the dark.

         Raimey froze. Unable to speak, and unsure of what to say had he been able to, he dropped to his knees. The Great Beast moved closer to him, slowly and seemingly without effort, almost appearing to glide. Moonlight shone down into the mouth of the cave, giving the Beast's white fur a luminescent quality, a magnificent aura. It stopped several feet away from Raimey, eyeing him in silence as if awaiting explanation.

         Raimey remained on both knees, mesmerized by the Beast's gaze, unsure of what he was supposed to say or do. Then, as if on cue, the Voice spoke.

         " The orb shall guide you."

         How could he have forgotten? He couldn't merely expect the Great Beast to assume he was the chosen one. The orb would prove it. He reached into his pack and pulled it out, uncovering it. He held the orb out as an offering, both hands shaking with elation. He became aware of the magnitude of the moment.

         The prophecy had foretold that he, the chosen one, would free the Great Beast. Together, they would return to the woods to wage war on their enemies. Side by side, they would liberate their brothers from the oppressors and crush the fascist regime currently in power! They would obliterate their captors and tormentors with unbridled, righteous fury! There would be wailing and gnashing of teeth...

         Suddenly, and with nearly instantaneous quickness, the Beast pounced and was upon him, razor sharp claws tearing at his face. Equally sharp teeth closing down on and sinking into his throat. Raimey became aware of a vague, feminine scream in the background, just before all his movement and thought ceased and he faded into the eternal blackness of death.



         Ultimately, the failure of Raimey's quest would have far reaching implications. It was a tragedy that would remain in the mind of the public for years to come. Less than an hour after his brutal death, the body of an orderly was discovered in his room at the Crestview Home for the Mentally Disabled, from where he had made his escape. The 65 year old woman had been stabbed multiple times with a screwdriver. Another orderly was fired and publicly vilified for failing to complete his nightly rounds. An act of neglect that could have possibly changed the course of events for all considered.

         The security guard at the Parkhurst Zoo, also a victim of the screwdriver, would be hospitalized and eventually cling to life for nearly three days before succumbing to his injuries. He left behind a girlfriend and two small children.

         An assistant zookeeper, who had the unfortunate luck of arriving just in time to witness the bloody mauling, suffered nightmares for years afterwords, despite counseling. She took an extended leave of absence and eventually left the field all together.

         The Great Beast, a Siberian white tiger, was immediately put down, much to the outrage of various animal rights groups, who proclaimed the tiger a victim of circumstance and negligence on behalf of the zoo.

         One question forever remained in the aftermath of the tragedy. There were theories and speculation, but no concrete answer as to why 36 year old Raimey Johansson had been carrying a child's toy at the time of his death. A Magic Eight Ball.



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