Jim moved through the bustling zoo crowd, his eyes scanning the families milling around, the joyful shouts of children blending with the chatter of adults. Everywhere he looked, people seemed content, lost in their own worlds of laughter and casual conversation. But Jim's heart pounded with a different rhythm—one of apprehension. His mind was elsewhere, locked on the task at hand.

The Milnar family was seated near the main pavilion, a quaint wooden picnic area beneath a wide, leafy tree. They seemed happy—too happy, Jim thought. George and Anne Milnar sat side by side, their heads tilted close together as they laughed at something their young daughter said. The little girl, no more than five, giggled as she swung her legs back and forth in her chair, a juice box in hand. From where Jim stood, they looked like the perfect picture of contentment—a family at peace.

He watched them for a while, his feet rooted to the spot. Something about it all felt... off. Like a photo that had been doctored, the edges blurred to mask imperfections. It wasn’t just the nagging suspicion in the back of his mind; it was the way the air felt around him—heavy, suffocating. He glanced over his shoulder, a strange unease crawling over his skin. It felt like someone was watching him.

His eyes darted from face to face in the crowd, looking for anything suspicious. But all he saw were other families, other groups moving through the zoo with careless abandon. No one seemed to be paying attention to him. Still, the feeling of being followed gnawed at him, setting his nerves on edge. He shook it off and turned his focus back to the Milnars.

They finished their lunch, George wiping his daughter’s face with a napkin while Anne checked something on her phone. It was now or never. Jim swallowed the lump in his throat and made his move, walking toward them with slow, deliberate steps.

“Excuse me,” Jim said, his voice a little too soft at first, so he cleared his throat and tried again. “Excuse me, George? Anne?”

The couple looked up in surprise, George’s expression confused but polite. Anne, however, frowned slightly, as if she recognized Jim but couldn’t place where from.

“Yes?” George said, his brow furrowed.

“I need to ask you something about your daughter,” Jim said, his voice firmer now. He glanced down at the little girl, who was gazing up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Is she... is she really yours?”

Anne’s frown deepened. “What kind of question is that?” she snapped, her tone sharp. She instinctively moved closer to the girl, protective, her body language shifting from curiosity to suspicion in an instant.

Jim felt the tension thicken between them, but he pressed on, his mind racing. “Can you remember? I mean, can you remember giving birth to her? Her first birthday? All the milestones?”

Anne’s eyes flared with anger, her hand gripping the back of the bench tightly. “Of course I can! How dare you!” Her voice was raised now, drawing the attention of nearby onlookers. The little girl’s lip quivered, her eyes filling with tears as she sensed the growing tension.

Jim knew he was pushing too hard, but something inside him wouldn’t let him stop. “Please,” he urged, his voice lower now but insistent. “Think carefully. Are you sure? Can you remember those moments clearly? Does it feel like... like she’s always been here?”

Anne stood abruptly, her face flushed with anger. “Get away from us!” she hissed. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you have no right—”

The little girl began to cry, her small hands clutching at her mother’s shirt. George stood as well, his jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with a mixture of confusion and fury. He stepped toward Jim, his tall frame imposing as he grabbed Jim by the collar and yanked him forward.

“You need to back off,” George growled, his voice low and dangerous. “I don’t know what your problem is, but if you don’t leave us alone, I swear—”

Jim’s breath hitched as he felt the raw strength in George’s grip. He glanced around, suddenly aware of the eyes on them. People had stopped to watch the confrontation, their curious gazes making the air feel even heavier. This was spiraling out of control fast.

Jim raised his hands in surrender, his heart pounding in his chest. “I’m sorry,” he stammered, taking a step back as George released him. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Anne pulled her daughter closer, her face a mixture of fear and anger. “Get out of here,” she spat, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to soothe the crying girl.

Jim nodded, backing away quickly, his hands still raised. “I’m sorry,” he muttered again, before turning on his heel and walking away as fast as he could without drawing more attention to himself.

As he walked through the zoo, his body thrumming with adrenaline, that uneasy feeling of being followed returned. He glanced over his shoulder again, but there was nothing. No one. Just the feeling, lingering like a shadow.

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Jim kept walking, his mind churned with conflicting thoughts. He replayed the scene in his head—the protectiveness in Anne’s voice, the way George had grabbed him, his entire demeanor shifting from confusion to fierce protectiveness. They weren’t hiding anything. That much was clear. Their anger, their defensiveness—it wasn’t out of fear or guilt. It was the reaction of parents protecting their child.

Jim felt his eyes water and redden at his intrusion—he had pushed too far, asked the unaskable, and in doing so, he had been the one out of place. There was no doubt in his mind now. The little girl was their daughter, and any other notion was not just offensive to them—it was ridiculous. Whatever mystery was unraveling around him, it wasn’t something the Milnars were part of. They were just a family, and Jim had crossed a line.

Jim walked aimlessly through the zoo, his mind still spinning from the encounter with the Milnars. He was trying to focus, to calm the unsettling churn in his gut, but the world felt wrong—disjointed. Families passed him, children laughed, and yet all of it seemed distant, like he was watching life unfold through a screen, separated from the surrounding normalcy.

Then, a sound broke through the haze. A roar.

It was deafening—so loud that it sent a tremor through his body. Jim froze, instinctively snapping his head toward the source. His heart slammed against his ribs as he stared in shock. Behind thick steel bars stood a massive creature—an animal unlike anything he'd ever seen in his life.

Jim's breath caught in his throat, his pulse thundering in his ears as he watched the beast pace in its enclosure. Its golden fur rippled with raw power, muscles flexing beneath its sleek form as it prowled back and forth. His eyes locked onto its huge paws, its claws, the thick mane that framed its head like a crown. The creature let out another roar, its mouth open wide, revealing sharp, lethal teeth. In one quick motion, it lunged at a carcass thrown into the pen—a dead animal, blood and fur scattering as the creature tore into it with ferocity.

Jim's stomach turned as he watched, riveted by the sheer power of the creature. There was something primal about it—savage, untamed. The creature was a predator, and every part of its existence screamed danger. He took an involuntary step back, his hands trembling as adrenaline surged through his veins. In his reality, no such animals had ever existed. He had read about them, seen images, but the reality of it—a living, breathing predator standing in front of him—was something else entirely.

Fear gripped him. His mind raced, trying to reconcile what he was seeing with the world he knew. This thing shouldn’t exist. It was another fracture, another shift in reality, and it terrified him. The creature's eyes flickered toward him for a split second, and Jim swore he felt its gaze pierce through him like it could see straight into his soul.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Jim caught movement—something that sent his instincts into overdrive.

A man, moving deliberately through the crowd, was speaking into a radio. Jim tensed, trying to listen over the noise of the zoo, but the words cut through clearly enough: “Yeah, he’s by the creature enclosure. Eyes on him.”

Jim’s heart dropped. He knew that tone, that coordination. He’d seen it countless times in his military days—this was a pincer movement. They weren’t just watching him. They were planning to grab him.

His muscles coiled with sudden tension, years of combat training snapping to life in his mind.Was this a response to the Milnars? Had they informed security? They were closing in, and Jim could already picture the angles they’d use to trap him. He didn’t need to see the others to know they were flanking him on both sides, cutting off any escape.

Not today, Jim thought, his jaw tightening.

Without wasting another second, he darted away from the enclosure, slipping between groups of tourists, keeping his head low as he moved quickly through the winding paths of the zoo. He could feel their eyes on him, hear the subtle shifting in the crowd as they adjusted their positions, trying to close the distance. But Jim was fast—faster than they anticipated. Years of training kicked in as he weaved between people, blending in, using the natural flow of the crowd to his advantage.

He turned a sharp corner, disappearing behind a concession stand and vaulting over a low fence, landing silently in the shadow of a maintenance building. His heart raced, but he forced his breathing to stay steady. He could hear footsteps—heavy, deliberate—closing in. But they hadn’t seen him yet. He stayed crouched, waiting for the right moment.

The footsteps passed. Jim silently counted to ten, then bolted in the opposite direction, heading for the exit. He moved swiftly, keeping his head down, every sense on high alert. He could still hear the distant chatter on the radio, hear them adjusting their strategy, but Jim wasn’t going to give them another chance. He was already halfway to the gate, his mind racing as he planned his next move.

As Jim headed towards his car, the creature—a massive, fearsome beast—flashed in his mind, its raw strength terrifying, as it ripped apart the carcass of some other animal, its bloody maw a testament to its power. But it wasn’t just the savagery of the creature that unnerved him; it was that he had no idea what it was. The world had changed in ways he couldn’t understand, and this creature was proof of that. In his reality, things like this didn’t exist. But here? They were caged for public display.

His breath caught as he thought back to the men, their approach too calculated to be a coincidence. They weren’t zoo security, like he had first assumed. These men weren’t here because of the Milnars. As much as he had pushed for answers. Their coordination, the way they maneuvered to surround him without a word, signaled something far more dangerous. A pinch move, his mind echoed, military tactics flashing through his head. They were going to grab him. The ease with which they had almost trapped him unnerved him.

Ever since he had woken in this twisted version of reality, he had felt it—that prickling sensation at the back of his neck, the constant feeling of being watched, like unseen eyes were always one step behind him, waiting. Waiting for what? To see if he would break? If he would slip up? And now, after cornering the Milnars, these men had swooped in, their presence confirming what he had suspected all along. He was being hunted, but for what reason?

Jim got into his car, beads of sweat falling down his head from the excursion. Well, that answered one question but opened the door to so many more, Jim thought, each more unsettling than the last. I hope Brettell is up now, and making a bit more sense. He put the car into gear and headed back to Westside.