Small as an Elephant: Chapters 20–25

He’d be carted off, his grandmother would be called, and all the struggles of the week would have been for naught.

Hope surged through him.

Maybe it was because he’d been trapped in a vault for the past three hours, but hiding out in another confining space was the last thing he wanted to do right now.

The shed mostly contained gardening equipment: plastic pots and bags of soil, clippers and rakes. But in the corner was a faded director’s chair, and next to the chair was a plastic bin filled with dingy mystery magazines from the 1970s.

It wasn’t until he’d gone beyond the center and was back on the rural roads that he felt conspicuous.

If an elephant family has been torn apart due to poaching, elephants will form new families.

“Hey, man. I thought Sylvie was exaggerating. Just being melodramatic, as usual. But the Staties— they’re really looking for you?”

Jack wished he’d kept his big mouth shut; what if Wyatt was too nervous to take him all the way to York, now that he knew he was a fugitive?

“What I wouldn’t do for a little money—a little independence,” said Wyatt. “I’d live on the road like you, traipsing off to see wild elephants whenever I felt like it.”

He’d probably raised enough suspicion already, just standing frozen in the cereal aisle, to get himself caught. Jack casually backtracked to the entrance and bolted out the door.

He sat in one of the back corners of the Dumpster, wolfing down the food, and marveled at his brilliance.

One of the officers lifted the lid of the Dumpster, and two cups of lukewarm coffee came splashing down on Jack.

Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he didn’t dare; he’d never outrun the cruiser. But he couldn’t ignore the policeman, either. Not without arousing suspicion.

The door straight ahead of him would lead him back into the store. He looked to the right. Ah, there was the office. The door was slightly ajar.

Jack climbed out the window and scrambled down the metal steps, no longer caring how much noise he made. He was thinking only about going fast enough to escape yet slowly enough to not careen off the side and smash his skull on the street below.

He tried to thrash his arms, but two much larger arms had pinned them down.

“I don’t want to contradict you—you knowing her and all. But I talked to her, and, well, that’s not the impression I got. Your grandmother defended your mother. Said she’s a great mom. Said your mother loves you like crazy. But she gets sick, right? From what I understand, she has an illness.”

“That’s right. She may have been manic, but she was taking care of you, kid.”

Elephants love reunions. They recognize one another after years and years of separation and greet each other with wild, boisterous joy.

There’s bellowing and trumpeting, ear flapping and rubbing. Trunks entwine.

Big Jack looked bemused. “Whatever you say, kid.”

“She looks a bit impish, doesn’t she?” asked Gram.

Lydia rolled the plastic bucket closer to Jack and Gram. Jack stretched out his hand, desperate to touch her.

All along the way, Jack realized, he had never really been alone. He had been a part of a makeshift herd, one that had spread out over miles.

They had communicated with heart sounds that were sometimes so soft, they weren’t always discernible to the ear. But they had found one another, and they had helped one another. Just like a true herd.