Free Did Not Survive by Ann Littlewood

all the facts. Just don’t go calling her a rogue, okay?”
    â€œOf course I won’t call her that. But come on, Sam!” I softened my voice. “No wild animal is totally reliable. You taught me that. They have their bad days and pet peeves like we do, except that when an elephant gets crabby, somebody ends up smashed flat because humans are small and breakable. You know that way better than I do. Everyone wants the real story, everyone wants the best for Damrey. And there isn’t much you can do to steer this.”
    â€œAll I’m asking for is an open mind,” he said, not quite snapping at me. “I’m not asking for the moon, only a little help saving an animal’s life. She didn’t attack Wallace.”
    â€œSam, if you’re wrong and you keep giving her the chance, she might kill
you
.”
    Sam’s shoulders sagged. “Iris, you’re not hearing me. You are
not
hearing me.”
    This was so not worth Dr. Reynolds’ gratitude.
    Outside the barn, I stopped to view the yard where the two cows he cared so much about were enjoying the morning. The pink tops of their ears glowed from the low sun shining through, a benign contrast to their other-worldly silhouettes. They really were something else. Strong, smart, sociable, complicated. I loved big cats, which were at least as dangerous. I could appreciate elephants as well.
    Wallace might wake up. The NAZ committee would figure out what happened. Sam would be proved right or not, and we would all cope. Calvin must be wondering what was taking me so long.
    â€œDon’t you wish you could do better than this?”
    My head jerked around. Two scruffy men, both with picket signs, stood near me. The one that had challenged me said, “Every day you work here is a day these elephants suffer. Isn’t it time you took a stand for better living conditions?”
    He spoke from a thicket of beard, another bush radiating out from his head. He was a little shorter than I. Whether that was fat or muscle filling out the denim overalls and dark red jersey shirt, I couldn’t tell. His sign said, “Sanctuary from Suffering,” and a blue and gray backpack sagged on his shoulders. The other man was a boy, maybe eighteen, in regulation jeans, dark sweatshirt, and muddy running shoes. His black hair was too straight to make a good bush, but he was trying hard by leaving it long and not combing it. “Prisons drive animals Insane” proclaimed his sign. He looked familiar.
    â€œHow did you get in? The zoo’s not open yet.”
    Bushy Hair said, “The front gate’s unlocked. I know you’re not an elephant keeper, so maybe you can be objective. Is this any way to keep those majestic animals?” His arm sweep took in Damrey and Nakri minding their own business, idling about the yard. “Wouldn’t you rather see them roaming grassy hillsides?”
    â€œI assume you mean an unaccredited sanctuary with no oversight, where the public has no idea what’s going on. No, that doesn’t sound all that wonderful.”
    â€œI could show you pictures. It
is
wonderful,” he said.
    â€œWhy don’t you put your energy into saving elephants in the wild? Do you realize how endangered Asian elephants are?” Mr. Crandall had forbidden us to get sucked into this debate, but still…somebody had to push back.
    â€œIt’s irresponsible to keep two elephants in an exhibit this size. They’re meant to roam miles every day, not hang out in a space the size of a backyard.”
    The younger one nodded and scowled.
    I said, “That’s why we passed the bond measure to build them a bigger, better exhibit. Why is it I don’t see you demanding that construction get started?”
    â€œBecause there is no way you can build an exhibit large enough to keep them healthy and happy. They’re sure to get foot and leg problems, and there isn’t room for a normal