FELICIA HEILGENDORFF

He had been closely watching the zookeeper for three days now. Carrying food to the rhinoceroses and clearing away faeces. He smirked at the strange turn of events as he watched him from the small bridge.

When the zoo closed for the night, he hid in one of the bushes, his dark green clothes nicely blending in with the shadows of the plants. The zookeeper was still busy with one of the rhinos, but about half an hour later, he emerged from the gate, locking it behind him. Whistling lightly, he made his way along the bridge.

The man slowly left the bushes, making no noise at all, and followed him to the end of the bridge. When the zookeeper stopped, he stopped right behind him.
He half smiled as he said the words softly into his ear from behind. “We still have unfinished business, you and I.” The zookeeper whirled around. For a second his face was a mask of fear, which slowly turned into recognition, then defiance.

The man was pointing his gun straight at a point between his eyes. He smiled one last time.

Before he had time to pull the trigger, the zookeeper had kicked him in the groin, sending the gun flying and was kneeling on him, crushing the man’s throat with his weight.

The zookeeper stared at him with hate and disgust. “I think I prefer being the one to finish this business.”

© 2016

Sunday Photo Fiction, 14th February 2016