Stuart sat in the steel cage, the bars digging into his feet. Clutching the door and staring intensely at the lock, he tried to go somewhere else. The capuchin monkey could see it still. The lush verdant wonderland, his home, became so close whenever he closed his eyes. Rustling leaves and roaring rivers rang like blissful bells. Everything was so alive in the jungle. The sun shimmered, and it was never cold because of it. There were no cages in the jungle. Even the jaguars, cruel predators, were preferable to the cramped misery of the metal box. His stomach rumbled, through the lasting hunger. He could feel the tropical fruit on his tongue. Stuart pressed his face against the bars, almost wishing to slip through like water. Freedom, how far away was it now? The whirls of awful machines, they had taken him miles and miles away from the trees. Even in his imagination, he could not remember what the birds looked like. The jaguars were made of mist. Eagles squawked in his nightmares but never had a form. How long would it be until the trees would become intangible memories too? Would sunlight and rain be lost to entropy too?

Where he was now, it did not feel real either. Dank and musty, everything here was so wet. Darkness was only staved off by a yellow flickering lantern, which was covered in the muck of dead flies. The smell of feces and urine, constant and noxious, permeated throughout the room. Two monkeys and two apes sat in their own cages, each far too small for their size. Yesterday, they had watched Jenny, a bush baby, be taken away. She cheered for salvation. Jenny knew of the jungle too, Stuart thought. Maybe she was going back? But, what if she wasn’t? Would it be trapped inside another machine, or worse?

“Adam and Eve in their wisdom built the Garden of Eden from their rib bones. There, that is where— that is where the red sea lies! Red sea, full of blood but also sanctuary!” Abraham, a gibbon screeched from his cage. He stretched his arms out, so scrawny they could fit through the bars. “Stuart! The smiling man inside the light-box, he spoke of the Garden of Eden! The light-box, have you seen it, Stuart?”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ritchie the squirrel monkey screamed, huddled in the corner of his cage. He twitched, his hands slamming against his own head.

“Praise be to the one who created the ark, it will take us and even you Ritchie far from this damnation. The light-box, I know it would never lie!” Abraham hollered. The siamang began to hoot and the thought of it. “Stuart! Have you heard of the burning bush?”

“I don’t know!” Stuart snapped. The capuchin had small ears, and it was too full of Abraham’s nonsense. “What is a garden compared to a jungle? All the light-box says is nothing compared to the jungle!”

“Blasphemy! Blasphemy! Blasphemy!” Abraham sneered. “The garden is good and great! The channel in the light-box said it to be so!”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ritchie repeated, clutching his head, digging his fingers in his ears.

“All of you, quiet!” Duke, the chimpanzee spat. He flashed his teeth and tried to claw at them with his overgrown fingernails. His scratches only grazed the metal mesh walls of his prison. The chimp’s confines were, by far, the most secure. “For once, do you not know silence! Every day and night you squeal about jungles and gardens. You are both stupid and unaware! Do you not know the cruelty of the men? They prod you with needles if you are loud, they beat you with sticks if you are loud! Even worse, I will beat you with a stick if you interrupt my sleep!”

“Jenny, will they beat her with a stick?” Stuart asked, pressing his face up against the cage. Again, he felt so close to just falling out. Then, if he fell out, the jungle would be so close. Did Jenny feel the same as she cheered?

“Jenny is dead,” Duke grunted. The chimp leaned back in his cage. “We are all dead.”

“But the afterlife!” Abraham screamed. “Do not deny it! The afterlife comes beyond the garden!”

“Shut up, crazy creature. Your mind’s already rotten. We are all rotting.” Duke wiped his eyes. Stuart could see it, the chimp’s back, desecrated by deep pink scars. “Then, when we are nothing, we’ll be sold as pets, as things. Dressed in makeup, clothes, forced to run around with clowns and lions, all prancing about. Humiliating torture, we are things to them, pets.”

“If we are not things, then what are we?” Stuart did not like the word pet. Jenny had said the same term with primal fear. He still did not understand why.

“Animals, unlike the man, we are animals,” Duke said with vicious pride. “Animals are animals, cages are useless to that fact.”

“I don’t understand Duke.” Stuart pleaded. “Please, what do you mean?”

“You will not understand when you think of jungles, think of animals. Animals are forever, the jungles will be killed by man.”

“The machines, the yellow ones,” Ritchie said. “Great mouths that eat roots and soil. They flattened my family, squashed like bugs. We are not animals, we are bugs.”

“Bulldozers, things that can rust.” Duke retorted. He brandished his fangs with a wide smile. “Those will rust. Animals live—”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ritchie snapped. “Bugs! Bugs! Shut up! Bugs! Bugs! Bugs!”

“Oh, the messiah, Stuart did I ever tell you about him? He is in the garden, turning his blood into bread and fish! Bread and fish, all from blood! Blood, isn’t it incredible? The man on the light-box thinks so, and I think so too!”

“The light-box and its man, your man, think nothing of you Abraham. It’s all fake!” Duke slammed his fists into the mesh. A wicked screech rattled from his throat. “Jungles, gardens, bulldozers, all lies that will fade away! We are animals, animals are forever!”

Stuart ducked his head, hiding in his hands. The noise and the insanity mixed, becoming loud and thrashing.

Light rushed into the room, a blinding white glow. The strong stench of cigarette smoke infected the air. A figure stood in the doorway, wearing overalls and heavy rubber boats. A bucket full of bananas swung in his hand. He muttered something, but it was silent amongst the screeching. The man crammed fruit into each cage, far too wary of getting his fingers bitten off. Duke was more than willing to try, slamming his face against the mesh. The man flinched at the sight of the fangs, nearly dropping the bucket. Stuart, also startled, noticed something shiny jangle on the man’s belt.

“Keys!” Duke screamed. “He has the keys! We can escape!” His fist thrashed against the wire mesh of his cage. It was rare for such an opportunity. Only a stupid, maybe also drunk, man could make a blunder like this. “We can be free! Grab the keys, Stuart! Grab the keys!”

“Escape?” Stuart asked. He reached through the bars, but his arms were too short. The man turned, giving Stuart’s outstretched hand a banana instead of freedom. Did the man know? Was he just mocking the monkey? Cowering, Stuart hid back with his gift of food, afraid of being caught and punished. He had seen Duke’s scars, both when they were bleeding and when they were healed. Stuart, much smaller, knew such wicked violence would rip him in two.

“Abraham!” Duke roared. “Grab the keys!”

The gibbon’s long slender arms stuck out through the bars. Abraham quivered, his scrawny body leaning all his weight against the cage. The metal box teetered on the crate it sat upon. “Give me strength!” Abraham begged as it fell. With a clattering thud, the cage collided with the man’s back, pushing him to the ground too.

“Grab the keys! Then strangle him!” Duke commanded.

Abraham howled, his fingers wrapping around the keys and yanking. The man’s belt was sturdy, it would not give easily. Malnourishment had made his muscles thin and useless. Abraham whimpered as he tugged and tugged, exhaustion seeping in. “My arms!” He cried. “They’ll snap before I could ever get the keys!”

“Maybe the garden will have new arms, or have others there to feed you!” Stuart shouted. “Whatever is there, it’s better than here!”

A twisted smile took over Abraham’s face. With all his withered strength, he ripped the keys away from his captor. His fingers were red and bloodied from gripping them, but he held them nonetheless. The gibbon coddled them close. He could feel his rapid heartbeat press against the metal. His brown saucer eyes looked right at the man as his cage was lifted back onto the crate. Duke spat at the awkward apology the jailkeeper muttered. Their thievery went entirely unnoticed.

“When he leaves, give me the keys!” The chimpanzee demanded.

“No, we must all be let out!” Stuart protested.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ritchie blared.

“The light-box man said we will all be led to salvation,” Abraham concluded.

When the man with the bananas shut the door behind him, a stern quiet conquered the cramped smelly room. The serene jangling of a few rusted keys brought a hopeful smile to Stuart’s face. He did not dare breathe as Abraham shoved the keys into his cage’s lock. The first one was rejected, too big. The second, however, fit perfectly. Twisting it, the door that once seemed invincible opened with a blissful creak. “Salvation.” Abraham smiled.

“It worked!” Stuart squealed. “The keys worked! The jungle, has it ever been so close?”

“Shut up Stuart,” Duke groaned. “Hey Abraham, let me out next.”

The gibbon, still holding the keys in a tight embrace, wandered towards Stuart’s cage first. Each step was done with caution. It took a few strides before Abraham truly stretched his legs. He took off in a spiteful run, jumping, hooting with jittering joy. He ran in circles around the room, making it seem not so cramped after all. Yet, as Abraham’s eyes wandered to his imprisoned friends, he lowered his head in guilt. Swiftly, he fiddled with the keys, finding the one that fit Stuart’s lock. He struggled to open it until Stuart helped. Together they opened the cage door.

Freedom was as bizarre as it was beautiful. His eyes had trouble adapting. He had seen bars all around him for so long. He lifted his arms as high as he could. The ceiling was so high up now. For the first time in ages, he could climb! When was the last time he could perform such a feat? He pulled himself up onto boxes and chairs, grabbing things that once seen so far. He touched the walls. Cold! They were cold! Why were they cold? Where were they? Such answers were so close now that the cage had disappeared.

“Stop stop!” Ritchie screamed his voice curling into a fearful blood-curdling cry. “Do not touch it!”

“But Ritchie, salvation.” Abraham pleaded. He forced the key into the lock. Turning it only sent more screams out of the squirrel monkey.

“No! No! Shut up!” He hissed. Spit dripped down from his lips as frenzied eyes glared at the keys. “I’d rather be a pet, a doll, than go back outside. There will be no more dogs, snakes, machines. No more machines. No more machines! Machines treat us like bugs! Bugs get squashed! Why go outside when being a pet is better than being dead?”

Abraham backed away, leaving the crazed monkey to his solitude. Ritchie sat there, trembling, whispering to himself and crying. Sharp squeals burst out as he clawed at his face, tearing out his fur. Ritchie cried as Abraham unlocked Duke’s cage, but then said nothing more.

“Poor Ritchie,” Duke muttered as he shoved the door open. He took a long drawn-out breath of stale air. “He won’t know the taste of freedom, and will die here starving.”

“What?” Stuart muttered. His thoughts snapped to Jenny, who was only taken away a day ago.

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Rolling his shoulders, Duke flexed his arms, finally able to reach in all directions. “Stuart, on the other side of this door are men. We must kill them. Otherwise, they will put us back in the cages.” His voice swirled in a hypnotic matter-of-fact tone and emerging madness. His eyes were blank, and his breath got heavy. Duke was free now.

“But what about Ritchie? We need to get him out!”

“He refused it. A choice that can only be made once was already made!” Duke snarled, showing his teeth. If he wanted, his jaws could swallow Stuart whole. “He was free to make that choice, and now he is not free at all. Will you stay here whining and make that choice too, or will you fight? They put you in this cage, in this dirty room, because they saw you as nothing. Will you show them your hate Stuart, or will you stay here in their cage? The men will catch or kill you now that you are free. So you must run or fight.” His voice burst into a feverish chant, roars bouncing off the walls. His fists slammed against the mesh of his former prison. “Run or fight? Run or fight? Fight! Fight!”

“Duke!” Abraham shouted. “You will lead us into the red sea where we will drown! The light-box man said we have to exodus, flee! Flee! Run!”

“The light-box man hates you, Abraham, it will kill you even if you run!” Duke grabbed the gibbon by the throat. “Fight like an animal. That is all we are to them. Show them what an animal can do once the cage rots away.”

The door, where the men were, opened slowly. Tired sunken eyes stared down at the escaped monkeys. The bucket man, now with a lighter and a cigarette, froze when he saw them. Instinctually, he let out a manic wail. Duke leaped at the door, flying through just before it slammed shut. Like a cannonball, he crashed into his captors. The shrill scream tumbled from Duke’s throat. The cacophony of rage-choked curses and desperate squeaks rattled and quake. His claws slashed at the man, ripping his face. Blood blinded Duke, spraying in his eyes. Stuart pressed his hands against his ears, trying to block out the clattering noise. His eyes, however, remained staunchly open. He saw other men, tall and big, like walking trees. Their shadows stretched over Duke. It was over for the chimp.

“Come.” Abraham grabbed Stuart, dragging him from fear-ridden paralysis. “We must run!” The gibbon, in frantic flight, snatched up the lighter. “The light-box calls to me!”

“But Duke!” Stuart ran to the next room, leaving Ritchie and the empty cages behind. The violent animal had moved on to its next target. The aroma of both blood and tobacco made Stuart nauseous, like breathing in a deadly miasma. Still holding his ears, he continued to block out Duke’s final struggles, but they were far too loud. One man came in with a long stick. Were they going to beat Duke to death? Stuart had seen men bash Duke’s cage with mops before, to make him quiet. How would they make him quiet here, in the wilds outside the cage? Bang! A visceral boom brought intense ringing in Stuart’s ears. It was a gun, maybe, everything was spinning now. What was real anymore? The safety Ritchie stayed with seemed sane now.

Chaos took in another breath, Duke kept fighting. Crunching, squishing, and a single unending howl came from the ape. Stuart shut his eyes, not daring to take in the sight. Everything was too loud to hide from. Abraham ran faster, pulling Stuart along. The gibbon did not dare close his eyes, somewhere beyond this there was a garden. He ran across the room, completely ignored by his captors. Up ahead was a door, left ajar. “Salvation! Salvation! Salvation!” Abraham pushed himself forward despite the anxiety rushing through him. “Exodus!” He rang as he tackled the door, shifting all his weight to slip through the heavy iron slab.

Stuart ripped himself away from Abraham, halting in the doorway. Keep going? Why? To the small capuchin monkey, there was nothing. A dense wall of darkness loomed over him, far-off rumbling beckoning for him to take just one more step. Whatever instincts nature had given him held him there, staring into the void. Senses he had not used since he was plucked from the jungle asked him, begged him, to turn back. Cold. It was so cold in there. He had seen the yellow eyes of the jaguar prowling in the underbrush, watching him, waiting for him to run. He had seen the men and their machines and how they tore apart the trees. There were foragers, who could not run fast enough, that became mangled under the wheels. But this? The vacancy of light only heightened the ambiance of far-away growling and hissing. It warned of invisible machines, marching fast and reckless, thundering across the shadows. What was the point of escaping if we were to be swallowed up by this? Jenny, if she was here, would she go? Did Ritchie know of this, what rummaged in the air that smelled like burning? Creeping, the cold had accepted him. Shivering, Stuart let out a small shriek. Only a few sparse seconds had passed. The putrid unknown left the lost little animal petrified.

Bang! Another gunshot, another gargling roar. Behind him, something snapped. It was either wood or bone. Startled, Stuart lunged forward, into the peril. The frigid chill was tender now, as it at least distracted him from the stench of fresh blood. For a second he flew like a bird. Things went slow. Glancing back, he saw a mound of bodies. They laid together, still and silent amongst a sea of crimson. The war between Duke and all of mankind had been snuffed out.

Stuart landed in a puddle, the taste of mud greeted him with a wet sloppy embrace. It was refreshing, it tasted cleaner than any water he had before, even with the taste of rust mixed in. “Abraham?” Stuart whispered out into the dark. His voice chirped and squeaked, and the void echoed back, mocking him. “Abraham!” He shouted, angry at the nothingness, who again, copied his cries.

“Stuart!” A friendly voice without a form said back. Somewhere, a small flame flickered, shining onto the gibbon’s saucer eyes.

The small monkey ran to his friend. So relieved, he ignored the feeling of rough gravel underneath his feet. “Abraham! Duke, I think he died! I think the men too, they’re dead. We should— We should go back to Ritchie. He’ll die if he’s trapped in his cage.”

Abraham waved the lighter around. The small fire danced playfully, coating the gray walls with a warm yellow glow. There was a border to the endless void, Stuart finally learned. Thick wires, like snakes, held onto the walls. They seemed unphased by the distant rumbling. Clacking. A clacking that sounded like stepping on a million dead branches. The jungle? A tapir wandering the grasses? A stalking cougar? No, maybe a crocodile emerging from the water? In the dark, with just a sparkle of light, home was close! Stuart closed his eyes. The lush world, owned by trees that reached for the clouds. He was there again. Enraptured by the canopy, the humidity, and the warmth in the air, high up was safe and serene. Leaves congregated into a single green shape, always moving, always near. Fruit beckoned for him, ripe and full of juice. There was hunger, but not the starvation found inside an awfully small cage. There was darkness and predators, but here? Trapped in this tunnel? Nothing could survive long here.

“Stuart,” Abraham said, raising the lighter. He gazed up, trying to see the scale of the wall. “Are we underground? Are we trapped inside catacombs?”

“Catacombs?” Stuart muttered.

“Where the skeletons of Paris lie, a different man from the light-box told me of such a place. A place full of bones, I remember. Stuart, we may be far from the garden.” Abraham gulped.

“What about the jungle, how far are the catacombs from the garden?” Stuart asked.

“I remember it all so vividly,” Abraham said, laying his tiny hand against the stone wall. “The words of the light-box, all of it is coming back. So many different houses, so many homes. But the light-box was the same in each one. Some did not speak of a garden, of God or Adam or Moses. No, they showed monsters. Monsters live in the catacombs, Stuart.”

“Are we monsters? Or are we animals, like Duke said?”

“We are not monsters, we are pets.” Abraham sighed. In the yellow glow of the flames, his eye squinted. Shivers ran across his arms. “I understand now. Without the cage, I can see. Pets cannot live outside the cage.”

“But you talked about the red sea, sea of blood right?”

“The man inside the light-box never said catacombs bordered the red sea. This might be Hell. Infernal and never-ending, we are in Hell. If I knew this would be on the other side of the door, maybe I would have fought alongside poor Duke.”

“We cannot stay here, you have the light, where should we go?”

“Which way is the jungle, Stuart? Because I do not have any clue where the garden may lie.” Abraham hung his head low, holding the warm flame close.

The small monkey reached up and felt the wires. “We should follow these, and stay close to them. The dark, the terrible dark, we cannot get lost in it.”

“Okay,” Abraham whispered. “You lead, and I carry the light.”

A march across rough gravel exhausted the animals’ poor little legs. They were manufactured for trees. Evolution did not make them dwellers of the dark. But, all they could do was walk and walk. The ground meandered between flat and incredibly uneven every few minutes. Both Stuart and Abraham were prone to tripping but always picked the other one up. That is, except for the two times they both fell. In those cases, they worked together to get back onto their feet.

Abraham only had to hear Stuart’s tired breaths before he opted to sit down. Not wanting to be left alone in the dark, the capuchin monkey surrendered to his exhaustion. If he could, he would walk forever, until he finally found an exit or anything to fend off the dark. But he was tired, and Abraham had already fallen asleep. Stuart had dreams of Jenny and the jungle, of Duke fighting the men. The sounds, real sounds he heard, haunted him. A nightmare of terrible things, he did know if he even slept, or just dwelled in a vortex of his memories.

“You said you lived in a house, Abraham?” Stuart asked after an hour of silence. After they had awoken, they said nothing and simply went back to following the wall.

“A few houses, different owners carried me around. The houses got bigger each time though.” He recalled. His stomach rumbled. “Food was horrible though, and there was nowhere to climb. Trapped in a soft comfortable place, with only the light-box. That was the only one I had.”

“Would you go back?”

“Compared to here? I don’t know.” Abraham muttered. “I know what comes after the houses, the cages, and such. I don’t know what comes after this, maybe there is a garden.”

“You still think so?”

“While I slept, I had a dream. I was there, with Adam and Eve.” Abraham had a smile on his face. “We ate fruit together, from the trees. There were trees Stuart! Outside the houses, no matter where I went, there were trees! I was a pet for so many people, different men, but they always had trees somewhere nearby. Once we get out, they’ll be trees, I know it.”

Stuart’s mouth hung open at the thought. “Then, in the trees, we can be free!” His heart began pounding. Restless and weary, he felt he could walk a thousand more miles. “There have to be trees somewhere. You’re right!”

“I thought of it myself. The light-box didn’t say it to me.” He chimed. His words shook with great pride.

“Please have there be fruit trees.” Stuart sighed. His stomach growled, and he could feel the ground underneath his feet shake. “I’m starving.”

Far into the tunnel, hidden at its farthest depths, bellowing booms bounced off the walls. Louder by the second, the noise incited an earthquake. Pebbles and gravel leaped up as Stuart and Abraham were thrown to the ground. The lighter went out, and darkness came upon them in an instant. Stuart covered his head and ears, once again trying to block out the noise. A monster or beast? Duke spoke of lions or elephants. No, a machine? Were men hunting them? Bulldozers! Deafened, the rogue animals could do nothing with their senses extinguished. Thunder echoed a thousand clicks and clacks, something somewhere hissed. A rackety horn whistled a wicked sound. Ferocious, this rabid machine rampaged through the tunnel. Coming around the bend, its eyes stared down Stuart. Yellow orbs, bright as brimstone, came charging. Buzzing, the machine did not stop. It flew past as Stuart laid groveling. The train had disappeared into the dark, leaving as soon as it arrived, leaving silence in its wake.

When Stuart’s heartbeat settled, he found the courage to stand up. Blinded and lost, he shivered. “Abraham?” No response, the quiet was secretive and cruel. “Abraham!” Stuart cried, holding his back against the wall. “Abraham, where are you?”

The little monkey called for Abraham until his throat dried up. His scratchy screams continued to go unanswered. His legs had grown so tired, he forgot if he was sitting, standing, or lying flat on his back. Even when he began walking, leaving his friend behind, he floated in the void. He could not feel himself anymore. The myriad of senses haunted him; hunger, blindness, and sorrow. All of them collided until that oblivion brewed entropy. Yet, Stuart marched, believing the tunnel would go on forever. His heart tried to resist the fear of starvation. It was approaching in a slow creeping manner, but it would come sooner than Stuart liked.

What else was there to know? Something may happen if he continues walking. Death was a friend to stillness and hesitation. The cage—in its cramped and awful confinement—shunted Stuart into a state of nothingness. He had to keep going. Abraham was right when he said trees existed somewhere, he had to be right. His bliss, the gibbon’s joy when he said he did not need the light-box, rang in Stuart’s head like bells. For him to be so proud in his last words, that must mean it was true.

Stuart could see it now, the sprawling shrubs, the endless vines. The birds soared overhead. Jaguars and crocodiles, always hunting him. Nowhere was safe. Even in the jungle, there was no peace. Yet, he would be free there. Stuart began running, disgusted by the dark. He ran on all fours. The tunnel, like the cage, had a door. Abraham, in his many unusual words, already had the key. Stuart chose to fight like Duke did, by running. The little monkey, struggling to stay awake, wanted to survive.

The first thing he heard was the sound of rain. The downpour rejuvenated Stuart’s spirits, giving him new life just when he was about to faint. Dim sunlight crept into the tunnel, the exit clear and present. Train tracks led him out into the open, right under the dark storming clouds. Fresh air hit Stuart’s face, a sensation he had forgotten about. He ran down from the wet gravel, and into the mud. Woodlands, as vast as the sky itself, welcomed him. Their leaves danced and swayed in the wind. Fruit dangled from the branches. Stuart stopped. Was it all real? Or another dream? Taking the first step, he listened to the trees. They welcomed him with a soothing silence. The little monkey took off then, running and crying. Through a gateway of bark and roots, Stuart escaped into the forest, vanishing amongst the foliage.