Tales From The Inside: A Selection of Accounts from the Inhabitants of SuperZoo

Eilidh's Story (Part Two)

That was when I truly started hating myself. How could I not? What sort of a mother lets her newborn babe be caught up in something as barbaric as this?

I looked at the ground, expecting shadows to guide my sense of direction, but the whole thing was in shadow. The huge wall looming up behind me was letting very little sunlight into the maze. I reached out my right hand, touching the wall and did not allow it to leave the surface.

It was slow going, and my mind focused in desperately on my baby girl. I longed for her gentle weight in my arms. Finding her had been so perfect. How could I have lost her again? 

Children continued to play above my head, taunting me with their safety and security, their parents who had never had to do anything like this to simply hold them and nurture them. I considered following them- surely they had a better idea of what direction to go in, a better field of view to get to the middle of this maze, but they headed in every direction, and lots stood staring at me, so I kept on with my tactic and tried to stop picturing my baby girl lying, lost and abandoned, waiting for death.

How utterly terrified my precious girl must be. How confused, as she cried out for a mother that wasn't coming. Would I ever be able to bond with her? Would she ever forgive me? Would she even survive the next few hours?

Each question spurred me on, hurrying me round corners, putting a new jolt of urgency into me with every dead end I reached. The sun rose high enough for me to gain a sense of direction, and I dashed off the same way I had last time, removing my hand from the wall. Left. Right. Left. Middle Fork. Left. Another left. 

I hit the outer wall of the maze.

A roar of fury escaped my lips. The world came into a very sharp focus. I pawed at the ground as I paced, trying to work out where I had gone wrong. My baby could be dead and I was no closer to finding her than I had been when I woke!

I turned my back to the outer wall and began to move, trying to remain in the opposite direction. It grew more and more difficult to track as I lost the sun. Minotaurs have a very good sense of direction, however, and I am no exception. I let out a loud call for my baby girl, hoping she might hear and call back, but knowing that even if she did, it would be too weak a call for me to hear.

It took what felt like forever, but I finally found the orange wall. This time, it had no door. A small gap ran around its perimeter just above floor level. I dropped to my knees and looked in. My darling little calfling was lying abandoned in the center of the room.

I called to her. There was no response. I called again. Nothing. Panic rising in my chest, I called a third time. She lifted her head feebly and turned it in my direction. She could not move to me by herself. Calflings took months to learn independent movement. 

I looked around the room and located the door, positioned to my right. If I reached out my left hand and didn't let go of the wall, I'd get there.

"I'm coming for you," I told her. "Just hold on sweetheart. I'll be there soon."

~

This time, when I made it into the room, I paid attention to what was going on when I entered. The door I had originally smashed had been replaced with an industrial metal one. The moment I entered it locked shut behind me.

My priority, of course, was my baby girl. I sat down by her side and lifted her onto my knee. I told her everything that was going on. I apologised time and time and time again. This was not the way any child should be forced to enter the world.

"I suppose I should give you your name," I said to her. 

Traditionally, this was done by both of the parents of the calfling after birth, whispered into the child's ears simultaneously so that it would stay in their head rather than escape out of the opposite ear, but I didn't have Hamish here, and I couldn't bear the thought of her never knowing her own name before she died. For at this point, I was certain that death was where we were both headed. So I made do with just telling her.

"Maisie," I said softly. "Your name is Maisie. Your Daddy picked it. It belonged to his Grandma, you know. She was such a sweet woman."

Maisie shifted a little in my arms, adjusting herself to get the best possible angle for her milk, and sighed softly. I curled up with her against the wall, hoping against hope that, if they took me away again, I'd at least be able to get to her if I found the wrong wall of this room again.

The clanging of the opening grate woke me from my sleep. The gaps at the base of the wall had closed up. They were about to gas us again. I scooped Maisie into my arms in a panic, completely forgetting my precautions from the night before, and charged at the metal door. Unsurprisingly, it did not give way.

"No!" I screamed. "No! Please! Not again! Don't seperate us again!"

It was no use. The hiss of the gas gave me only a second to say what I needed to say.

"I love you," I told her. "I will find us a way out of this."

I held her close as the world blacked out.