When dawn finally arrived it was cold and raining pitifully. As the distant, dreary sun feebly stirred the town to wakefulness, Harry stood silently before the burned out museum mourning the loss of his new friends and trying to make sense of how it had happened.
He was soaked to the skin and water lay all around. As morning rallied, bleary-eyed animals arrived, shook their disappointed heads and departed without saying a word. Like him they had come to confirm by light of day that it wasn’t just a nightmare; that it really did happen. He lifted his sunglasses and rubbed his tired eyes. He was cold, wet and tired. He just wanted to lie down somewhere warm and dry then wake up to discover it was all just a bad dream.
The extent of damage was heartbreaking. The ruins of the museum still smouldered, curls of smoke rising unsteadily from the rubble. The roof had collapsed during the night taking out two of four walls as it fell. Great blocks of dressed stone lay scattered amongst broken glass and iron-hard timber beams that had escaped the fire by being thrown free. The ancient artefacts littering the rubble had been burned or melted or crushed as the building collapsed. Only the tall silver tower that had stood in the middle of the museum’s exhibition space looked unharmed. Reginald would be pleased something had survived intact. Strangely, the portico still stood on its four granite pillars. This was where Reginald had stumbled out amidst fire and smoke. He had been unable to find Larry and Flossy and had eventually been overcome.
He turned to his big, grey friend but Reginald was caught up in his own grief. He just gently swayed side-to-side a short distance away, rain cascading off his hide. He had watched helplessly from high up a pole as Reginald collapsed and tumbled down the museum’s stairs. The fire behind him was so fierce he was lucky to be alive. Urged on by a gorilla, Reginald coughed uncontrollably as he was guided to safety, two rhino soldiers rushing forward to steady him. In the hours following, Town Square had slowly emptied. The rain started after midnight, putting out the last of the fire. Harry stayed with some others to help with the search for Flossy’s and Larry’s remains. They searched until dawn but found no survivors, and no bodies. The fire had been so intense that nothing was left.
Harry sighed. He had replayed in his mind the night’s terrible events again and again but was unable to find anything that would have prevented the tragic loss of life and the loss of the museum and its precious artefacts.
He looked back across the Square. There weren’t many about. Most animals would still be asleep in bed or huddling together in their warm stables. A few were sheltering under the alarm bell rotunda near Town Hall. Others were warming themselves by the Heat Tree in the centre of the Square and talking quietly. Reginald stood nearby and surveyed the ruins; like Harry, he hadn’t slept.
He thought of the last time he had seen Larry, scurrying off as they left Gateway Quay. He had only just met the quiet young chimp but it had seemed like they might have some kind of future together. The way he sailed, his dexterity and the fearlessness he displayed disabling the Interloper’s steering mechanism made Harry want to know him more. But he was gone. What a loss.
He had known the human child, Flossy Fairweather, for even less time but could see in her a stoic, warrior spirit that would face each challenge head on. Now she would never find out what had happened to her parents. She would be denied the chance to grow old and experience all that life had to give, or what she might take by force. A tragedy was somehow made worse when a child was involved. Adults had surely failed to discharge a basic duty of care when a child of any House died a preventable or unjust death.
The loss of the school and museum were tragic but at least they could be rebuilt. He couldn’t imagine how Reginald must feel as he looked upon the ruins of a life’s work taken from him by something as mindless as fear and mass panic. No doubt this would be something he would remember with sadness for the rest of his life; sadness upon sadness.
And to think that only yesterday Harry had glowed with pride as he boasted to Flossy—she had never before been amongst animals other than those of her own House and he had hoped to help make a good first impression—about the sensibleness and equanimity of his adopted town, Port Isabel. Animals, he had said, could live together peacefully, treating each other with respect and dignity. Hours later those same animals had herded her into the museum and taken her life, and Larry’s, by setting it alight.
It had rained half the night and it rained still so that the stone, wood and iron of the town glistened as new. Gutters overflowed eaves and water crashed from downpipes making big puddles. It was as if the world wanted to wash away Post Isabel’s sins and start over.
A salty tear ran along one of Harry’s long whiskers, growing fatter and heavier as it mingled with the rain.
‘Is that you, Harry?’ asked a strangely familiar voice behind him.
Harry and Reginald turned.
Standing before them, wet but otherwise unharmed, stood a well-rested and smiling human girl with bouncing blond curls and soiled pirate clothes.
‘Wow, what happened here?’ she asked, looking up at the museum ruins with large eyes.
Standing slightly behind her and off to one side was a young and uncertain chimpanzee.
‘Flossy! Larry!’ yelled Harry, running towards them, arms outstretched.