Savage Moon

Twenty-One

Jeremy Hobson put on a pair of latex gloves then opened the fridge marked Not for human use. All the shelves had been removed to make room for a large plastic crate. Hobson picked it up and placed it on a cutting board next to a metal sink.

He peeled back greaseproof paper to reveal a pile of dead chickens, their claws poked out at awkward angles, necks and feathers bent to the side. After extricating the uppermost bird, he dropped its partially plucked carcass on to the cutting board. As he reached for a serrated knife sticking to the magnetic strip above the sink he looked into the adjoining office.

A young man was standing in front of a TV monitor, flicking between the views from various cameras mounted within the panther enclosure. 'Martin, isn't it?' Hobson asked.

The youth didn't look round. ''S right.'

'I asked you to put those carrots in the water vole runs. Could you do it please?'

'Yeah.'

Shaking his head, Hobson pierced the bird's stomach, then drew the blade up to its breast. Placing the knife to the side, he reached in and tugged out the animal's entrails before dropping them into the washing up bowl in the sink. Then he removed a cleaver from the collection of butcher's implements and brought it down on the bird's neck. After sweeping the decapitated head into the washing up bowl, he rotated the bird, then brought the cleaver down again, chopping it in half. He repeated the procedure with the next bird, then looked down. Lined up on the concrete floor were three stainless steel buckets. He dropped the four chicken halves in to the first bucket.

After dividing up the remaining birds and placing them in the other buckets he reached for a pot of powder on the windowsill.

The label said Vionate, vitamin mineral supplement. He dusted the contents of each bucket in a layer of yellowish powder.

Next he lifted up the bowl of innards and stepped over to a large bin in the corner. On the wall above a laminated notice read, All bones and waste meat must be double bagged in heavy duty bin liners.

He tipped the bowl up and the chickens' innards slid with a wet plop into the bin. After peeling off his gloves, he dropped them into the bin too then replaced the lid.

'Right,' he said under his breath, surveying the row of buckets. 'Mweru and Mara first.' As he bent down to pick up two buckets, the young man spoke from the office.

'Can I help feed the panthers?'

Hobson straightened back up. 'Feeding the panthers is a privilege that is earned. Seeing as you haven't done anything I've asked of you, no, you can't. In fact, you haven't even earned the right to watch it on the CCTV. Now, if you don't start doing some work you can go back to the Silverdale. There's plenty of others there who'd jump at the chance of a work placement like this.'