Outside, a scrappy family hatchback skidded to a stop. The driver — Dizzy's personal guard — was on the phone with one hand, driving with the other.
We piled into the back. Louise, of course, had already claimed the front seat. M.K. curled up beside us. Dizzy collapsed next to me, too tired to even be dramatic.
Police sirens screamed from every direction. Helicopters whirred overhead. A mob of reporters was already closing in on our car, lenses out, questions loaded.
Our driver inched away calmly, managing not to kill anyone. No headlines for them — no world- shattering scoop.
Although… fleeing the scene in hurry could look sketchy. Especially since Louise screamed out the window:
Later, bitches!
Which, you know, might link Dizzy Justa to the attackers. But I didn't care.
I was exhausted. My body wanted to pass out like Dizzy's fanbase. But my brain — wine-soaked and adrenaline-soaked — wouldn't shut up. Louise and M.K. looked fully recharged. Radiating chaos.
Then the driver asked:
Where to?
I leaned forward.
Let's swing by that petting zoo I know. — I gave the
Dizzy nodded without looking up, eyes fixed on Tinder, his thumb lazily swiping left and right.
I'm looking for someone who loves trdelníks. That's this sweet baked thing from Pretty tasty.
Taste really is subjective. I stuck my hand out the window, catching wind and cooling off, letting the city blur into a stream of light and motion. Chicago at dusk — neon veins of a restless animal — and there it was, my destination, glowing like a checkpoint in some half-remembered dream.
It would be a perfect addition to my film. Oh right. The camera.
Forgot again. Damn terror attacks. You're filming You tireless maniac. — Louise shook her head disapprovingly, then slumped forward, face on her knees, whispering what sounded like spells.
The driver, unfazed. Dizzy looked mildly concerned.
It's not like… Insta, Tiktok trends or anything, right?
No, It's a diary. For…
As long as it's not trends. — He sank back into Tinder, that bottomless abyss of faces and vibes.
We didn't exactly zoom through traffic. The city was clogged with chaos after the stadium incident. Not one of us turned on the radio or checked the news. No one wanted to hear what the terrorists had said. Everyone had enough voices in their own heads already.
I went quiet. Brain on low-power mode. Until we pulled up to that old building — the one Erich and I had visited together. I should have felt something — nostalgia, melancholy, the pang of not being here with him. But I didn't. Not yet.
No one was around. Just like before. I asked the crew to stay in the car, and then stepped out alone. My feet guided by muscle memory.
There it was — the tin sign, proudly stamped in ancient Verdana font: Zoo № 1.
Ambitious.
The corridor, once targeted for renovation by Ardon and Gina, had been revamped: cedar paneling, flower pots marking the in-and-out lanes. I drifted through the heady smell of begonias and asters until I reached the door — yes, that one. Memory led the way.
I opened it. And walked straight into death.
We're closed! Dondel is — That was Toshi, the zookeeper, sobbing by the alpaca pen. He cradled the animal's head, stroking it, whispering to it, forehead pressed to its cheek like they were lovers in an old tragedy. Hi, I'm Nibi. Erich's girlfriend. Maybe you remember me. I just need to grab one thing and then I'll be out of your way.
I'm sorry for your loss. — That age-old, hollow phrase. Utterly useless in the face of real grief.
Tiptoeing past, I grabbed a paper cup filled with apple slices, parsley, and hay — a treat. Slipped out without a word. Toshi didn't even blink. Just kept holding Dondel like the world had ended.
Jesus. Why now? Why tonight? Hadn't I had enough already?
I wanted to comfort him. Really. But I was running on empty — cold and scraped raw on the inside. Couldn't give warmth I didn't have.
My eyes stayed dry. But something sour twisted in my chest. I was grateful for the car waiting at the curb.
Inside, nothing had changed: Dizzy with his phone, the driver at the wheel, M.K. snoring on the dashboard, Louise still whispering to her knees.
— Dizzy nodded. — You get what you needed?
So, where to?
Millennium — I said it flat. I didn't have energy for more.